


Broken

by Lerena



Series: Listen to me [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Ableism, Abusive Sonia Kaspbrak, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Autism, Bill Denbrough Stutters, Eddie Kaspbrak is autistic, F/M, Gen, Good Parents Maggie & Wentworth Tozier, M/M, Richie Tozier Has ADHD, Slow Burn, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Stanley Uris Has OCD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 89,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22129246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lerena/pseuds/Lerena
Summary: According to his mother, Eddie Kaspbrak has a wide array of physical illnesses, all of them necessitating that she sheltered him from the rest of the world, so dangerous for her fragile kid. But that her son might be autistic... Absolutely impossible. Her son is not like "that".About to enter high school, Eddie Kaspbrak is going to experience his first friendships, navigate through his teenage years and find love. All of this while trying to discover who he really is, behind every single fake diagnosis he received during his childhood.Written by an autistic author.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & The Losers Club, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Listen to me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701829
Comments: 491
Kudos: 386





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello ! 
> 
> Here's my first try at a Reddie fanfiction, centering on Eddie Kaspbrak. I've read a few fanfics with autistic Richie, but I never came across autistic Eddie, who is a personal headcanon of mine. 
> 
> I identify quite closely with Eddie, for various reasons, and I'm hoping I'll do him justice. I don't know how regular my posting schedule is going to be, but I'll try my best. 
> 
> English is not my first language, so forgive me for any eventual mistake and don't hesitate to bring them up to me. 
> 
> TW at the end of this chapter. Let me know if I forgot anything that might trigger you.

It was a dance he was definitely familiar with. Eddie Kaspbrak had absolutely no idea how many doctors he had seen at that point. He couldn’t even give the pretense that he cared about any of it. His eyes were scanning the ground, counting the tiles silently, while he was distractedly playing with his nails, scratching them with his thumb. It hurt a little, helped to handle the lights that were too bright for his sensitive eyes and the “hum” that he could constantly hear in the doctor’s office, probably coming from his heater.

He barely listened to what was happening around him. Not that it really mattered. Eddie was definitely used to people talking about him without involving him in the discussion. He remembered being young and trying to answer himself to what the doctor was asking. But his mom kept shushing him, telling him that he didn’t know any better and that she was the one who knew exactly what was going on with him.

Eddie wished he had his comics or even one of the boring books he had to read for school, but he wasn’t allowed any of that when he was receiving medical consultation. He didn’t really know why, not that his mom seemed to be expecting anything from him. No, she was just touching him sometimes, complaining about how hard it was on her that her son’s sickness was never taken seriously, that no one was able to find a proper cure.

This doctor seemed a little bit different from the others. Eddie could hear him trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t care less. He knew that if he started to speak, his mom would prevent him from doing so, and he hated it when he was interrupted while speaking. Having to use his voice was like going down on a high-speed roller coaster, words spitting out of his mouth at an often ungodly speed, and being forced to stop suddenly was making him experiment some kind of whiplash.

So, Eddie was just waiting. Waiting for this new doctor to prescribe him some new medicine and for his mom to drag him out of the office, clutching in her hands the prescription that she would have been given. He knew this dance. It was always the same, with very little variation. If it wasn’t so boring, he could appreciate how predictable it was.

There was something relaxing about knowing exactly what would happen. It wasn’t like at school, where he was constantly wondering if Bowers and his goons might try to attack him, if someone would try to play a trick on him or whatever. He was always nervous, anxious, on edge. This feeling was creeping out on him all day long, and he often found himself unable to bear it, hiding in the bathroom despite how disgusting it was, isolating himself from the rest of the world.

But today’s dance was not like the other dances. His mom suddenly snapped at the doctor, her shrilling voice piercing Eddie’s eardrums, his hands violently clutching to his ears as a result:

“My son is not retarded! My poor baby is physically ill and that’s your diagnosis? That he should be in a mental institution?”

Eddie felt his heartbeat stopping for a whole second, his eyes widening. The thought of being locked away, without even knowing why, made his breathing get faster and, between two wheezing sounds, he managed to take his inhaler and put it between his lips. He pressed the button once, twice, thrice, before managing to calm himself.

They kept talking, talking and Eddie had troubles to follow what they were saying, like he was suddenly in Charlie Brown’s world and everyone was talking like the adults in the show. Barely any word managed to make sense in his head and, out of nowhere, his mom put her hand on his arm, her fingers gripping him brutally. He let out a yelp, the first sound that came out of his mouth since they arrived there, while his mother was dragging him out of the office. Eddie could feel the doctor’s look on him, but he was unable to decipher it.

He followed his mom as much as he could, thoughts swirling in his mind, his skin burning where his mom’s fingers grabbed him carelessly. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to know where he was and what he was doing. He barely registered that he was back in his mom's car, his mommy fastening his seat belt for him, like she always did.

He hated this car. It was noisy, smelly, and the seat belt was too tight, making him feel like his lungs and his ribs were crushed by it. He heard himself let out a distressed humming, and he tried to stop it as quickly as possible, not wanting his mom to hear it, but it was too late. Her hand grabbed his with too much strength, screaming with her loud and shrilling voice:

“Stop doing that!”

It was hard. Hard to stop himself from letting out this sound. Eddie did what he always did in this kind of predicament, clenching his fists and scratching his skin as discreetly as possible. He focused on the pain, the humming coming progressively to a halt until he was silent. His mom seemed satisfied, since she focused on the road, rambling about how incompetent this doctor was, that she was the only one who really knew her Eddie Bear and how sick he was.

Eddie found himself tuning out her voice, turning his head towards the window, his look focusing on the blurry sight that he was passing by. Soon, he'll be at home. In his room. Alone. Like he always was. Something inside of him wanted to take a leap of faith. To unbuckle his seat belt, open the car’s door and throw himself out there. Finally being a part of this world that he just saw through the car’s window.

Rolling in the grass. Climbing a mountain. Running without having to worry about his breathing. Finding friends. But it was just a dream. Eddie never dared to touch his seat belt while his mom was driving. It was dangerous. He could realistically die. He could die in so many ways in this world that was so, so dangerous for him.

Besides, he didn’t have any friends, and he was sure that no one would ever want to befriend him. He was boring. Weird. A clean freak, that’s what Bowers and his goons called him. A fairy too, even though he didn’t quite understand why. They had many names for him, names that he took for granted because no one else was telling him otherwise.

For his mom, he was fragile. Precious. Sick. People thought he was weak. They didn’t like to listen to him rambling about potential health hazards or the latest comic book he read. So he just shut up. Made himself smaller than he already was. And he let life happening around him, pretending that it didn’t bother him. But it did.

He barely registered that they were at home, that his mom was pulling him out of the car and dragging him to his room. He was exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than a little bit of peace. A quiet time. He obediently took his medicine, not even knowing which pill was for what. And then, he was on his bed. Finally alone.

He barely moved, curling up on himself, his eyes scanning his bedroom without being able to focus on anything in particular. Maybe he should do something. Read a book. Check that his stuff was ready for school, since he was going to be a high school student in just two days. Go to the bathroom and clean himself. Anything. Whatever.

But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t get himself to leave the bed. He was looking at the wall, blinking slowly, barely able to think about anything. Anything except what just happened. The word that his mom used kept playing back in his head. Retarded. Retarded. Retarded. He found himself whispering the word, repeating it again and again like a litany.

Was he retarded? Was that what the doctor was trying to say to his mom? Eddie found himself regretting not have listened to what the man was saying more closely. Maybe that was why he had all of these issues. Why life was so harsh on him. Why he was so alone. Maybe it was even why his dad died, when he was little. Because his son was retarded and he couldn’t bear the thought.

Eddie closed his eyes, his breathing getting high-pitched and a bit too fast. What if he really was? What if the doctor was right? His mommy… Would she stop loving him? He had no one else. If his mommy gave up on him, he… he would be all alone. And he didn’t want that.

Eddie had no idea when he fell asleep, tears rolling on his cheeks, his nails scratching his skin viciously. His sleep was plagued with nightmares, where he was sent to a mental institution, all alone in the whitest room ever, hearing screaming and crying and people begging to be let off. And his mom just abandoned him there. Because he was retarded, and no one liked retarded kids. No one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for ableism, the R-Word and self-harm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for the feedback and the kudos! I felt inspired, so here's the second chapter!  
> I hope you'll like it. I'm not used to write Richie, so I hope he won't feel too OOC.  
> As always, feel free to point out my mistakes and don't hesitate to leave comments!
> 
> Good reading!

First day of high school. Eddie knew that he should probably be excited, but he was too anxious to feel anything positive at the moment. He tried to get himself ready for the day as much as possible, checking his stuff, again and again, to make sure he didn’t forget anything important.

During his summer vacation, he had spent most of his time “studying” what high school could be like, reading various books on the topic, watching teen movies (that actually made him more nervous than he already was), hoping that it might help him to survive through the next years. He wasn’t really sure that he managed to pick up anything useful from his work…

Derry High School wasn’t that far from home, but his mom insisted on driving him there, something that Eddie knew for sure would get him mocked by his peers, especially since his mommy tended to be so openly affectionate towards him. He wasn’t the most popular kid in his old middle school, far from it, and he knew it would probably be the same in high school.

After all, most of his classmates were enrolled in Derry High School just like him. They already knew him for who he was: the boring, wheezing teacher’s pet with the shortest shorts and the overbearing mom. The one with no friends. But still, if he could make it to school without his mother calling him “Eddie bear” and kissing him loudly on the cheek, he might at least be able to be ignored and left alone.

He tried to bring up the subject to his mom during breakfast, eyes focused on his milk and cheerios, trying to make himself look as nice and sweet as possible. Tiny, shy voice. Polite words. Everything that would make him look like a good, good boy, the one his mother wanted him to be. But it was to no use.

His mommy was firmly decided to drive him to school, and she would not change her mind. What if the bus had an accident? What if he decided to walk there and someone kidnapped him? What if he fell and couldn’t get up? What if he was run over by a car? No, no, she was not going to let anyone or anything hurt her precious, fragile son! She’ll take him to school, no matter what.

Eddie wanted to put up a fight. To raise his voice and let himself be heard for once. He barely managed to let out a “But...” before shutting himself up, cheeks red, heart beating fast, under his mom’s stern look, and the menacing “Edward...” coming out of her tight lips. He didn’t like it when she called him Edward. It meant that she was angry, and he didn’t like to make his mommy angry. It was… scary.

He gave up, like he always did, his heart filled with shame and resentment towards himself. He should have been able to share his thoughts. He was always so afraid. A coward. A fucking coward, even. He didn’t dare to swear in front of his mom, but that was what he thought. Eddie Kaspbrak was a spineless fucking coward. And his mother was driving him to school and fastening his seat belt for him, even though he was a teenager and was perfectly able to do it himself.

His arms were clutched around his school bag during the whole trip. Five minutes passed until he saw the school building, and Eddie didn’t know if it went too fast or agonizingly slowly, like the pain from upcoming torture waiting to happen. An impending doom, that he had no other choice than to face head-on.

Eddie took a deep breath, prepping himself up for the worst. He unbuckled his seat belt all alone, which his mom let him do begrudgingly, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the car, hoping that no one saw him doing so. His mom suddenly screamed, making him jump out of surprise:

“I love you, Eddie bear!”

He could hear people laugh, mocking him already. His cheeks reddened and, barely able to let the words out, he faced his mother, answering her in a shy and resigned tone:

“Love you too, mommy.”

And then Eddie walked as fast as he could towards the school building, trying his best to tune out the mocking imitations he could hear, fidgeting nervously with the straps of his bag. Didn’t they have anything better to do than to ridicule him even more? He just wanted to be left alone, was it too much to ask?

He muttered a “Fuck you” to the guy who made kissing noise while his friends were laughing, pushing him over when he got too close to him. Eddie didn’t allow his fellow student to hit him, running away, hoping that he’ll forget him soon enough. The bell rang, a piercing noise that made Eddie grit his teeth. It was time.

Eddie sat in the front row, as he always did. That way, he could avoid being seated next to the noisiest students, and he managed to focus on what his teacher might say… most of the time. There were lots of empty seats. He doubted anyone would willingly choose to sit next to him, right in front of the board, where the teacher could easily witness any suspicious behavior.

And yet, while Eddie was unpacking his stuff, putting it properly on his desk, he heard a loud “thump” right next to him. He jumped slightly, his pen rolling out of the desk as a result. He leaned over to pick it up, removing his hand quickly when it came into contact with someone else’s fingers.

Eddie prepared himself to never use this pen again, when the mysterious hand returned it to him. He let his eyes briefly meet those of his desk neighbor, raising an eyebrow with suspicion and curiosity. Big glasses. Messy hair. Tacky Hawaiian shirt.

Eddie was pretty sure he already saw the guy in middle school, but he couldn’t remember his name. He might have heard it yelled once or twice. Something like… Michie? Eddie was pretty bad with names, especially with people he wasn’t close to. And since it was pretty much the case with everyone else…

“Ground control to Major Edward, Ground control to Major Edward, take your pen and put your helmet on!”

A perplexed expression found its way on Eddie’s face, so clear that this Michie guy let out an obnoxious laugh:

“David Bowie. Space Oddity, you know? Please, tell me that you already listened to David Bowie, dude! He’s like… out there! Know what I mean?”

“I’m… not sure I do. I don’t have a helmet to put on.”

“Yeah, I know. And I couldn’t think of a substitute for this line, so forgive me for that, Major Eds. Anyway, you can take your pen back. It’s clean, I promise.”

Eddie’s eyes scanned the floor, before going back to Michie. Definitely not clean. He took it with hesitation, cleaning it with a tissue and using hand sanitizer afterward. The guy let out a “Wow” that made Eddie blush, driving him to duck his head and to let out an angry “Fuck you, dude.”.

“Calm down, Eds, I’m not making fun of you! You just reminded me of a friend, that’s all. His name’s Stan, he’s not in our class. But I bet you’d like him. You’re both so… anal. I’m more of a pussy lover myself, but you know. To each his own!”

And he laughed. He laughed at his own joke, and Eddie didn’t know if he found it amusing or annoying as hell. Probably both. He settled on huffing, a small smile on his lips, while he scolded Michie:

“Don’t call me Eds. And how do you know my name, by the way?”

This Michie guy didn’t have the time to answer him. The teacher shushed the classroom, and the lesson started. It was during the roll call that he learned that his desk neighbor was definitely not Michie. Richard Tozier. Probably going by Richie.

Close enough, Eddie thought to himself. He didn’t know why he managed to recall at least part of his name. Not like he ever talked to the guy. He watched him pass by a few times, with his friends, wishing that he could be part of a group too. To have people waiting to see him, hoping to talk to him.

Usually, Eddie tried his best to learn and be attentive during class, but Richie made it quite tricky. Eddie couldn’t help but pick up on every little sound his desk neighbor was making. Shaking his legs. Tapping his foot. Clicking his pen. Eddie couldn’t make out what the teacher was saying, growing annoyed, angry, and exhausted every minute passing by. Was it always going to be like this? How could he survive his school year with such a noisy neighbor? Eddie felt like he was dying, his sensitivity growing higher and higher.

It wasn’t just Richie. He could hear one of his classmates chewing gum, not as discreetly as he thought. The neon lights were too bright, slightly flickering. He was having trouble keeping his breathing under control, and his writing, usually so clean and proper, was all messed up, a scribble that Eddie was unable to decipher at all. He wanted to scream. To hit Richie. To get him to stop, finally.

He didn’t feel Richie’s worried look on him, and Eddie didn’t notice that he tried to be less noisy, forcing himself to stop tapping his foot against the floor. He didn’t hear him whispering his name here and there, trying to get his attention, to make sure he was okay. Eddie was already so, so tired. He wanted to go home. To be with his mommy, where the lights were dimmed, and the TV’s sound was at an okay level, and he could just feel... safe.

He heard the bell ring, and he finally registered that he was having trouble breathing. Eddie took his inhaler, using it like he always did, managing to calm himself a little. He barely looked at what he had written, knowing that it was useless, that he couldn’t use it to study. He couldn’t remember what the lesson was even about and if there was a test, he was going to fail it and his mom… his mom…

“Eds, are you…?”

Eddie felt Richie’s hand on his shoulder, and he pushed it back a bit violently, startled. He didn’t like to be touched without any warning, and he was definitely not in a state to handle this feeling properly. He gathered his things as quickly as possible, his hands shaking slightly, focused on a single objective: getting out of this classroom. Immediately.

He rushed out of the room, barely registering the “Wait!” coming from Richie. He barely made a few steps before crashing into someone else, quite abruptly. Hands on his collar. His small body lifted in the air. Of all the people he could have bumped into, it had to be Henry Bowers. Fucking Henry Bowers.

Eddie didn’t have the energy to care. He just hoped that Bowers would get tired of him quickly, so that he could go to the bathroom or the school library and get a tiny moment of peace. He knew that the guy was insulting him, but he could barely understand what he was saying. Suddenly, Henry ceased to grab him, letting him go while shouting something like “You’re dead, Tozier!”.

Eddie didn’t think it through. He couldn’t. If he did, he would have probably declared himself the stupidest guy ever born on this planet. But Eddie was tired, confused, and, most of all, angry. So, he did the unthinkable: he… he tripped Henry Bowers up. Trying to take the heat off Richie, impulsively.

Bowers’ attention snapped back to him immediately. Eddie barely had the time to brace himself before his fist collided with his right cheek. He registered the pain, the heat on his cheek and the words that were coming out of his mouth, too quickly for him to stop himself:

“Fuck you, Bowers!”

Then, everything faded to black.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and your kudos ! I hope you like the story so far !
> 
> Here's Richie's POV for this chapter, I hope it's in character !
> 
> Bye bye !

Richie couldn't get himself to eat. Usually, he was quite the glutton, filling his plate to the brim and eating until his body let him know that he had enough fuel for the rest of the day. He was always so restless, so nervous, burning way too many calories just by being himself. But right now, Richie was playing absentmindedly with his potatoes, poking them with his fork.

His thoughts were turned towards Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie, who was finally in the same class as him after all of those years. Eddie, who he was finally able to catch the attention, sitting next to him, talking to him. Eddie, who was pulled out of school for the rest of the day, maybe even more, because Bowers punched him. And it was his fault, Richie was sure of that.

It wasn't just because the little guy, for some reason, tried to deflect Henry Bowers' attention onto himself, right after Richie attempted to do the same. No. Eddie was nervous, distressed, and he fled the classroom in a survival mode, as if he was running away from death itself. And Richie was pretty sure that he was the source of his anxiety.

He let out a sigh, raising his head to see his friends' concerned looks. They had every reason to be worried: he wasn't eating and he wasn't talking. He should be carrying the discussion, making terrible jokes, maybe even trying to enroll Beverly in a food fight, especially since he didn't share any lessons with them and barely had the time to say hello this morning before going to his classroom. But he was quiet. And a quiet Richie was never a good sign, that's for sure.

"What's with the long faces, guys? Are we at a funeral or what?" 

He shouldn't have said that. Richie knew it. But his motor mouth was faster than his brain, and he just made this stupid joke, and he could see something in Bill's eyes, a shadow that was always there in some way, since Georgie's death. Richie let out a "Sorry", to whom Bill responded with a shrug. But Richie knew well enough that Bill cared and that he made him sad. He was the worst today, definitely.

"You should eat what's on your plate, Richie. Starving yourself isn't going to make your new friend come back faster." 

Richie shot Stanley a look, split between annoyance and surprise. The young teenager wasn't eating either, but he needed the food on his plate to be organized in a certain way, and there was a silent agreement between all of the Losers to not mention it.

Just like they didn't talk about Richie's constant fidgeting, Bill's stuttering, worsening considerably since Georgie's death, Beverly's tendency to avoid to stand too close to any adult male, Ben's nervous scratching of his stomach, right where Bowers tried to carve his name, or Mike's panic response to fire.

Mike, whose absence was clearly felt by everyone in the group. He was home-schooled, working on his family's farm, and they wouldn't be able to see him until the end of the day, if they were lucky… If he was there, he'd probably have some sweet words for Richie, trying to make him feel good about the whole thing. But he wasn't there, and Richie could only talk back to Stanley, with an inch of a defensive tone:

"How do you know about that?" 

Stanley rolled his eyes as an answer. Beverly was the one who gave him a proper response, a smirk on her lips:

"Everyone knows. Eddie, that's his name, right? Eddie managed to get Bowers expelled for the rest of the week during the first day of school, so, of course, everyone talked about it. Good riddance, I say! Too bad the kid got knocked out in the process…" 

There was always something rough about Beverly. She knew how to be kind, of course, but her words were often laced with a certain edge, making most people feel uneasy. Most people, except the Losers club. They knew their friend, could appreciate how frank and direct she was. Even though Richie would have probably liked it best if she didn't look so happy about the whole Bowers predicament…

"Y-You should t-try to visit him. Af… After s-school, I m-mean. He'd pro… prob… p… He m-might enjoy the c-company, you know?" 

Bill managed to get his piece out, before turning back his look to his plate, barely touched. Ben and Beverly excepted, there weren't many to eat at the table. Stanley was finally starting to do so when Ben asked:

"You know where he lives?" 

"Yeah". Richie shrugged, trying to look as detached as possible. He didn't mention that he already went there a few times, trying to psych himself to knock at the door and invite the kid to join him, before giving up and going back to his friends.

Not like Eddie ever manifested any kind of interest in him until their discussion before class. Besides, he had to admit that he wasn't totally sure about going to Sonia Kaspbrak's house. Derry was a small town, and people talked a lot. From what he heard, the woman was scary, and you didn't want to make an enemy out of her. Tiny Richie from middle school was intimidated. Grown-up Richie from high school wasn't. Not if it allowed him to keep company to Eddie. The guy seemed so… lonely.

Reinvigorated by the idea, Richie finally started to eat, while Stanley let out a sigh:

"Fucking finally! I thought I would have to put your face on your plate to get you to eat. You should eat too, Bill. It's probably not that disgusting. Not that I would know, I guess." 

Stan couldn't eat what the school was providing today, so he was eating what his mother packed for him, some spinach lasagna that looked way more appetizing than anything that was on their plate. Richie let out a "Lucky bastard!" before going back to his plate, his leg shaking under the table, his thoughts going back to the one and only Eddie Kaspbrak.

He hoped he was okay. He was probably going to sport a black eye for a long time. Badass. Though Richie would have preferred to be the one at the receiving end of Bowers' hits. He could handle it, even though his parents would have probably been angry that his glasses were broken so quickly. Two hits and Eddie was out. Richie wasn't even able to go see him at the infirmary because his mom pulled him out of school as soon as she was informed about the whole deal.

He was glad he finally got to talk to him. Eddie wasn't easy to approach, that's for sure. Most of the time, Richie couldn't even see him during recess, like he was hiding or something (which was probably the case, since he was most likely as popular as any of the Losers were themselves), and when he could find him, he was unable to get his attention.

At first, he thought it was on purpose. Eddie was always reading or studying when he was not in class, and he never answered when Richie tried to call him. He probably wanted to be left alone. But after the way he interacted with him when Richie finally got the opportunity to talk to him, he wasn't so sure anymore.

He didn't really know why he was so intrigued by him. Eddie Kaspbrak was a mystery. No friends. He didn't take part in any school activity, and Richie never saw him outside of school, as if he was spending all of his time at home. Richie knew what it was like to feel alone, until he found friends in the Losers, and he hated the feeling. If no one was going to take a step towards Eddie, he'd do it. Not out of pity or concern, mind you. No. He wanted to. He wanted to get to know Eddie Kaspbrak.

***

Richie stopped his bike in front of Mrs. Kaspbrak's house, taking a deep breath. It was getting a bit late, since he had to stop by his home to get rid of his school stuff and tell his parents that he was going to see Eddie, bringing him his homework. It was a bit unusual for their son, not really the kind to volunteer for this sort of thing, except for his friends, but they let it slide. They trusted him, and Maggie Tozier knew quite a bit about Sonia Kaspbrak and her son, having worked with the woman for a while. The kid could certainly use the company…

Composing himself the most polite smile he could think of, Richie rang the bell, jumping slightly when the door was suddenly opened. Mrs. Kaspbrak eyed him with suspicion, inquiring about the reason for his presence at her doorstep. Richie had the feeling that she was looking at him like he was nothing more than a pestilent insect, but he stayed calm and kept his smile. He didn't want the woman to prevent him from seeing Eddie when he finally had the opportunity to talk to him:

“Hi, Mrs Kaspbrak! My name is Richard Tozier, and I'm here to bring his homework to Eddie. I was thinking about staying with him for a little while to explain to him the lessons that he missed, if it's not bothering you. May I come in?" 

Richie felt like he was a boy scout trying to sell cookies to one of his most frightening customers. She scanned him thoroughly and, finally, when he was readying himself for a brutal meeting with the front door, she let him in, warning him with a wary voice:

"My Eddie Bear is very, very tired and needs his rest. Don't bother him too much and let him be if he's asleep. He's fragile, and what this brute did to him doesn't help at all." 

"Don't worry, Mrs. Kaspbrak," Richie said, an unnatural courteous smile plastered on his face. "I'm just here to help him. I won't be a nuisance, I promise." 

He had the feeling she didn't entirely trust him, but then again, he was here for Eddie's homework, and no one else volunteered. Pointing him to the direction of Eddie's bedroom, she abandoned him, going back to her TV and her show. Richie took another deep breath and knocked on the door, announcing himself to his classmate.

"Coming in! Richie Tozier, to the rescue!" 

The first thing Richie noticed when he entered was how "un-teenager" Eddie's room was. No poster on the walls, so clean and ordered that he felt dirty and out of place right when he stepped in. The only thing that reminded him that this room belonged to Eddie and not some monk was the stack of comics that he could see on his shelf. They seemed old and used, as if they had been read again and again. Richie doubted that Eddie had many opportunities to buy comics…

Sitting on his bed, Eddie had immediately turned his head towards Richie, a shocked expression on his face. As if he couldn't believe that his classmate was there, right there, in his own room… Eddie rubbed his eyes, looking at Richie like an alien was bursting out of his stomach. He stayed silent, getting up and closing the door behind them, before letting out in a suspicious tone:

"The fuck you're doing here?" 

Taken aback by the aggressivity in his voice, Richie took a step back, before recomposing himself and assuring, a more natural smile on his face than the one he gave to Mrs. Kaspbrak:

"Just here for your homework, Eddie Spaghetti. Well, I won't lie, now that I've seen your mother, I might stay here a bit longer and give her the time of her life, but first..." 

Eddie put his hand on Richie's mouth to shut him up, his cheeks redder than a tomato, seeming to hesitate between anger and embarrassment. He chose the first option, the words coming out so fast of his mouth that even Richie, of all people, had a slight difficulty getting him properly:

"If you're here to mock me, you can go back to wherever the fuck you live and leave me alone. I don't need you, I don't need anyone, fuck off!" 

Eddie turned his back on his classmate, fists clenched, closing the discussion. But Richie wasn't ready to leave. He didn't think that the boy would react so angrily at his joke. He didn't think at all, actually. That was Richie Tozier's curse and gift, a motor mouth that would let out the worst and the best of what his brain could conjure.

“Relax, Eds. I'm joking. I'm really here to give you your homework. And...".

Richie cleared his throat, avoiding Eddie's gaze. Not that he had too many efforts to do, Eddie didn't seem too keen on meeting his either.

"I wanted to know if you were okay. Keep you company for a while. And I wanted to thank you for Bowers, I guess. That was brave of you, Eds." Richie let out a laugh. "Probably stupid too, but well. You saved my glasses AND my beautiful face, every girl on this earth, and your mother especially is probably worshiping you right at this moment." 

A pillow was thrown to his face and Richie didn't duck fast enough to avoid it.

"Stop with the mom jokes. And the nicknames. I'm not Eds, I'm not Eddie Spaghetti, so shut it." Eddie sighed. "And I know that I was stupid, no need for the reminder." 

"Hey, I said that you were brave too, Eds!" 

“I’m not Eds!”

Eddie almost screamed the last word. His gaze immediately went towards the door, before looking down, controlling his quick breathing. Richie knew that he needed to be more careful. Eddie seemed to think that the entire world was out to get him, and he was reacting accordingly to his belief. He didn't want this meeting to end so soon or to definitely waste any opportunity of befriending his classmate…

"Can we sit down, Eddie? If you're okay with that, I could give you your homework, a quick summary of today's lessons, and all… Or I could just leave if you want to." 

Richie hoped he didn't. His heart was constricted behind his rib-cage, while the other boy seemed to consider the idea for a short time. Then, Eddie gave him a shy smile, sitting on his bed before gesturing to Richie to do the same. Richie complied happily, joining his new friend, sitting close to him. He raised his eyebrow when he saw Eddie flinch, but he didn't comment on it and sat a bit further, which seemed to make his classmate feel more relaxed.

Richie didn't care much for school or homework, but for Eddie, he was ready to play the part of the teacher's pet, thoroughly explaining to him what he needed to know. While Eddie was looking down on his notebook, writing some stuff, Richie scanned his face, wincing at the sight of Eddie's shiner and his puffy cheek, treated and bandaged properly. It must have hurt pretty badly… Richie had endured enough of Bowers' punches and kicks to know that it wasn't something to take lightly.

"So, hmm, you're coming back tomorrow, right?" 

Eddie shook his head, an annoyed expression on his face.

"My mom excused me for the rest of the week. She drove me to the hospital this afternoon, made me take a whole bunch of tests. I came out clean, and the doc said that I was okay, but she still insisted." Eddie grimaced, visibly exasperated. "So, no, I'm not coming back tomorrow. I'm supposed to stay here. Get better." 

Eddie seemed very upset, which was quite weird. Richie would have given everything to miss out on school for the rest of the week, even though they barely went through the first day. No lesson? No boring teacher? No bullying for a whole week? Sweet idea! Besides, even though he hated being sick, his parents were always extra nice to him when he was, allowing him to watch TV for the whole day if he wanted to.

"You lucky bastard! You should probably rescue me more often, you might skip the whole school year if you do so!" 

Richie laughed, but Eddie didn't seem to find the idea very funny. On the contrary. His fingers clutched on the pen he was holding, so firmly that he might snap it in half if he kept doing so. He was shaking his legs, in a nervous move that Richie was too familiar with, he who was barely able to stay still for more than a few seconds.

"I… I don't want to skip school. I want to go back. I don't want to stay here." 

There was so much distress in his voice, a pain so loud and so intense that Richie felt like he was suddenly bearing the whole world's weight on his shoulders. He didn't know what to say, what to do, because everything he tried to say, every action he was taking seemed to make his new friend sadder and more disturbed than he previously was.

"Thanks for the homework. And the lesson. And all. Can you… Can you leave, please, Richie? I'm tired." 

And he seemed tired. No, more than that. Exhausted in a way that Richie couldn't quite grasp. He wanted to stay. Make sure that Eddie was okay, that he knew that he wasn't alone, that he had a friend that wanted him to get better, feel good, and be happy.

But he gave up on the idea as soon as he saw Eddie curling up on his bed, turning his back to him, slightly shaking. Eddie didn't want him there, for now. Richie hoped he didn't ruin everything, that he still had his chance to befriend his classmate…

"Okay, I'm leaving. I… I'll come back tomorrow, Eds… Eddie. With your homework. If… If that's okay with you." 

For a moment, Eddie didn't say a single thing. He stayed still on his bed, making himself so little that Richie could swear that he was trying to disappear. But after a while, he turned back to Richie and nodded, before going back to his original position, closing the discussion. A sigh of relief escaped Richie's lips. He thought that Eddie would reject him totally, after this whole fiasco, but it wasn't the case. He still had his chances.

“Take care, Eddie. It was nice to see you." 

And Richie was sincere. Even though it didn't go well, he was happy to have been able to share a moment with Eddie. Next time, he'll do better. It was a promise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your feedback and your kudos ! It means the world to me ! Hoping that you like this chapter too !

Eddie barely managed to hold back the scream that was building up in his throat. He curled up even more on his bed, so much that his muscles were starting to ache a little. He was angry. He was sad. He was many, many things that he had troubles to put a name on. A part of him wanted Richie to stay. To keep talking to him the way he did, explaining him their lessons patiently and diligently, cracking out a stupid joke here and there but never at his expense.

But there was this whole other part of himself that he had so much trouble understanding and wanted so desperately for Eddie to be left alone. He didn't know why. Was it the fact that it was the first time that he ever let someone of his own age come into his room? That he definitely didn't expect Richie to come here and bring him his homework? Or was it the fact that his last sentence left him so freaking annoyed that Eddie wanted to punch his room's walls, angry that Richie couldn't possibly understand that he definitely didn't want to miss on the whole school year?

Eddie was frustrated. Richie didn't realize that his mother could very much decide on a whim that, yes, her son was too fragile to attend school and that she should keep him at home. He dreaded the thought, no matter how much his school life could be difficult sometimes. It was the only way for him to get out of his house and be on his own for a while, even if he could still feel his mother's presence via his watch and its unbearable beeping, reminding him to take his meds regularly.

Eddie was jealous. Jealous that Richie didn't have to worry about this kind of thing. That he could shake his legs and be distracted in class and still manage to be so fucking smart and good with school work. Eddie had to work so hard just to keep up with everyone else, and he knew how much he disappointed his mom with his so-so grades, when he could do so much better…

But most of all, Eddie was afraid. He was worried that he might have put off Richie. Yes, his classmate had told him that he would come back tomorrow, but still. Maybe he felt obligated. Perhaps he was hoping to gain something from this. Eddie couldn't possibly understand why Richie chose to spend this time with him, when he could have been with his friends, having fun after school.

Why did he come to his house? Why did he take the time to explain all of this stuff to him? Surely, he must have been bored as hell, right? Even worse, Eddie treated him like dirt, turning his back on him, asking him to leave without much of an explanation. Not that he could think of one, actually. Eddie was tired, but he wasn't sure why. Or, more accurately, there were too many reasons, and he didn't know which one he was supposed to explain.

Anyway, Richie must have thought that he was weird. Unkind. He must have been put off by his behavior. Maybe he wouldn't come at all, the next day… Eddie let out a sob at this thought. He felt so alone. Even more so, now that he just had the flimsiest opportunity to share his time with a possible friend and probably blew it all, by being… well, Eddie Kaspbrak.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the white dots that were clouding his vision, moving in a way that reminded him of a galaxy. As long as he could remember, he always saw this in the dark or when his eyelids were closed: hundreds and hundreds of white dots, dancing in a movement that he could sometimes control, when he was focusing on it.

At first, he thought that everyone could saw them, those beautiful stars, but when he tried to talk to his mom about it, she immediately brought him to the hospital, where she was told that she just had "a child with a vivid imagination". Eddie decided wisely to never mention it again, afraid that it could cause him troubles when it wasn't actively hurting him.

Sure, sometimes, it was a bother. He could have trouble finding sleep because he was focusing too much on the pattern of the white dots, clouding his visions no matter what he was doing. But, most of the time, it actually helped him to relax. He followed the white dots' trail, his eyeballs moving slightly behind his eyelids, and he let himself forget about the rest of the world, for a little while.

He didn't realize that he fell asleep until his mother shook him up, waking him up so that he could eat and take his medicine. Eddie was tired, cranky, but he did what he could to be on his best behavior, to not give to his mother any more reasons to worry about him. The television's sound was hurting his ears a bit, and he couldn't care less about what was happening on the screen, while eating his bland food, only waiting for the opportunity to go back to his room and catch some sleep yet again.

Eddie's thoughts were continually drifting towards Richie. He was really hoping that he'll be there tomorrow, after school, just like he promised. Eddie would be prepared, this time. He'd know what to expect, would prep himself to allow his personal space to be invaded, and he would try to be patient with Richie. It wasn't his fault if he didn't know. Richie wasn't fragile like him. He would have been able to go back to school the next day, or even not leave it all, if he was in his situation, unlike Eddie.

He gave a look to his mom, who was immersed in her show. Eddie hesitated, but he knew that he should warn her beforehand that Richie might come back. He didn't want her to refuse to let him in, to think that he was here for trouble when he actually came to help him…

Eddie had some difficulties in letting his voice be heard. He was tired, but he needed to speak. To tell his mom about Richie and hope for the best.

“Mommy?”

No answer. He repeated it a bit louder, and his mom finally gave him some attention. Under her gaze, Eddie swallowed hard, before managing to say:

“Uh… Richie is going to come tomorrow, after school. To bring me my homework and all. He… He won't be trouble, I promise. We're just going to work in my room and… and if I feel tired, I'll tell him to go. O… Okay, mommy?" 

Eddie was afraid. Terrified that she might say no. That she might decide that Eddie was too weak, too tired to see anyone. But thankfully, it wasn't the case. Richie must have made at least some kind of good impression on her, because she showed her agreement, nodding to the idea, telling her Eddie Bear to take care of himself and not hesitate to drive out the young man if he didn't want to see him.

She also let him know that she wouldn't hesitate at all to do so, and Eddie knew better than to underestimate her. If Richie displeased his mother in any way, Eddie was absolutely sure that he could never see him again in his house…

Finally, Eddie finished his meal and took his meds. He was so relieved to be able to go back to his room that he almost forgot to kiss his mom good night. Cheeks red and embarrassed, he did it immediately when she called him out on it, afraid that she might decide that his negligence deserved to be punished, especially by not letting him see Richie again tomorrow.

Going to the bathroom, he took the time to treat his wounds, giving his reflection in the mirror a long and pensive look. Maybe he shouldn't have done that to Bowers… No, Eddie definitely shouldn't have done that. Bowers hated him already, but now, he was going to be his target and Eddie wasn't sure he could survive too many encounters with him.

Then again, Richie was going to be the one who would have been hit, if Eddie didn't intervene. No matter how scared he was, how stupid Eddie thought he was, he couldn't regret what he had done. For the first time in his life, Eddie felt like he actually did something right. And it felt… good.

*

The hours passed slowly. Eddie sighed, walking in his room, keeping himself busy as much as he could. He reread some of his comics, remembering what was happening on the next page before laying his eyes on it. He cleaned his room thoroughly, not wanting for Richie to come across any speck of dust. He studied what Richie brought him yesterday, willing to show him that he was a good student and that what he had taught him mattered to him.

When his mother left the house to work, Eddie watched TV for a little while, quickly bored by its content. His eyes were wandering towards the door, thinking that maybe, just this time, he could get out for a while. And not tell his mom about it. But he didn't dare to do it. He tried to convince himself that it was because he wanted to be sure that he wouldn't miss Richie, but Eddie was aware of how scared he was at the idea that his mom might know that he went out on his own, deliberately disobeying her.

So, he stayed inside. And he waited. Waited. Waited. His mom was the first to come back, much to his disappointment. He loved his mommy, but he wanted to work with Richie. Maybe show him some of his comics. Get to know him a bit more.

Eddie was scrutinizing his watch, growing more and more restless and nervous as time went on. What if Richie didn't come? What if he finally decided that Eddie wasn't worth his time and just ditched him without telling him? Sitting on his bed, his legs shaking, Eddie started to have trouble breathing. He used his inhaler a few times, but he was still anxious, waiting desperately on Richie.

Why was Richie not already there? Maybe he didn't want to see him. Or perhaps he did, and he was in trouble? Eddie knew that he had a bike, and his mommy told him again and again how dangerous it could be. What if a car had run him over? What if a bad person kidnapped him? It would be Eddie's fault! Richie would be hurt, because of him!

Eddie's breathing fastened considerably, before coming to a halt when he heard the bell. His classmate's voice came to his ears, and the relief flooded him like a big, big wave. He was shaking slightly when Richie knocked at his door and let himself in. Driven by an unknown impulse and his fear, Eddie threw himself on Richie, hugging him too tightly.

He let go almost immediately when, taken by surprise, his classmate returned him the gesture, a smile on his lips:

"Well, well, looks like my Eddie Spaghetti missed me a lot! Or are you jealous and trying to make me forget your mom? Maybe both?" 

Eddie groaned and rolled his eyes. Honestly, he didn't know why he did that. Most of the time, he was running away from physical contact, especially from people he didn't know well. But he was so afraid for Richie. Besides, he was the one who took the initiative. He liked it better when he was the first to touch, the one in control. It was easier to handle.

“Enough with the stupid nicknames! Where were you? I was worried sick! You came way earlier yesterday, I thought you had an accident or something!" 

Richie raised an eyebrow, confused by Eddie’s outburst. But he quickly recovered, smiling even more while putting his bag on Eddie's bed, opening it with haste:

"I had something important to do, mind you. I brought you some stuff. You're going to love it! Here's a gift for my knight in shining armor, my Eds, my Eddie Spaghetti, my Spagheddie, my..." 

“Fuck you, Richie.” Eddie spat out, before turning his attention to the bag, curious and excited.

He bounced slightly on the ball of his feet, not even noticing it when he was usually painfully aware of his own behavior.

“What’s in the bag? Come on, show me!”

Richie laughed at his impatience, before pulling out a stack of comics, making Eddie's eyes go wide at the sight:

“Ta-da! I brought you some of my best comics! Yours are so old and crinkled, I bet you read them so much that you can practically recite them by heart. I'm here to open your world, Eds, I can't believe you haven't read Days of Future past yet, this comic is THE shit!" 

Richie spread out the comics on Eddie's bed, making him feel a bit distressed seeing his space invaded like this. He forced himself to breathe slowly, to calm himself down. It was just some books… Nothing to worry about. Besides, he really wanted to read something else than his old comics, for once. He loved them dearly, but, well… Eddie wanted to explore new stories. New universes.

"You can keep them as long as you want, Eds! I might take some of your old ones, if you're okay with that. There are some I haven't read yet, and I so want to talk about it with you when I'm done!" 

Richie was babbling excitedly, flipping the pages of multiple comics, pointing to Eddie some of his favorite scenes. Eddie had troubles following it all. He flinched a bit when Richie's voice got louder, caught in his excitation, but he was mostly smiling, amused by his classmate's impassioned behavior.

But hearing his mother's footsteps in the hall reminded him of where he was and why Richie was here, and Eddie got tense, interrupting Richie's fast and heated speech:

"So, Richie, you were here for my homework, right?" 

He knew that she was listening to them. Spying on them. Eddie hoped Richie got the hint. That he would calm himself down. And, thankfully, he did, glancing at the door, grimacing slightly, before grouping the comics into a small pile, taking out of his bag their homework.

"Yeah, I already took some notes for you. Sorry for my handwriting, it's a bit messy. We can read it together, and you can ask some questions if you don't understand something." 

Eddie started to read what Richie had written, asking a few questions. He felt relieved when he heard his mom's footsteps getting away from his bedroom door, but he still studied as seriously as he could, not wanting to take any chance. When they had caught up on everything, Richie offered him a smile, before telling him with enthusiasm:

"Man, I can't wait to introduce you to my friends! You're going to love Stan, you're both so… well, you!" 

"You're not making any sense, Richie. Again." Eddie quipped, eyebrow raised, his lips stretched in an expression close to a sarcastic smile.

Richie let out a laugh, before forcing himself to be quieter, not wanting to attract Eddie's mom's attention.

"I think you'll get along fine with Ben too. He's super nice. And Bev is clearly awesome, you're going to love her!" 

Eddie heard some stuff about her. Stuff told by his mom, by his classmates. "Dirty" stuff. But he didn't care much about it. After all, people also told nasty stuff about him, and most of it wasn't true. He didn't know Beverly Marsh, he had to meet her before judging her in any way.

"Don't talk about his brother Georgie to Bill if you can, though. It's still hard on him. But you'll see, Bill is über cool, and I'm sure he'll be happy to count you as another Loser!" 

Eddie didn't know how to react to what Richie just said. Was he… insulting him? It didn't sound like it. But loser was a bad word and one of the insults that were regularly thrown out at his face…

“Another… loser?”

Eddie clenched his hands, unable to prevent himself from tensing and feeling suspicious towards Richie. He seemed to notice the change in his behavior because he immediately told:

“Yeah, we’re all losers! The Losers' club! They're all calling us like that, so we figured out that we might as well make it our title, our own cool club, you know? I'm not, like, insulting you or anything, Eddie Spaghetti. It's a title of honor!" 

“Stop with this nickname. And, well, I'd be very, very honored to be called a Loser. I dreamed about it my entire life." Eddie sarcastically answered. Most of the time, his sarcasm tended to be misunderstood by other people because he couldn't always use the right tone of voice. Not by Richie, though.

"Well, Lord Eddie, Prime Loser among the losers' plebs, allow me to bow to your impeccable greatness!" 

And Richie did it immediately, getting Eddie to laugh at his antics. He didn't remember when was the last time he smiled and laughed so much. Has it ever happened, actually? Eddie couldn't tell.

"Anyway, there's also Mike, but he's home-schooled, so you could meet him at his farm or at the quarry!" 

Eddie lost his smile immediately, hearing Richie's words. He felt a wave of sadness, shame, and guilt flooding him. His gaze dropped to the floor, while he said, scratching his palm:

“Mom won’t let me go there. To the farm or the quarry. It's nasty, and I could catch an illness, be bitten by a nasty bug or scrap my skin on something and get infected. I can't go there." 

He repeated his last sentence once more, before letting out a sigh. Eddie brought his knees to his torso, clutching them strongly. He wanted to meet Richie's friends! He wanted to have fun with them! But he couldn't. He was fragile. His mom had to protect him. He couldn't. He just… couldn’t.

Eddie raised his head when he heard Richie scratching something on his open notebook. He held it out to Eddie, allowing him to read what he had written:

_D’you always do what your mom told you to?_

Eddie offered a puzzled look to Richie, who gave him his pen. Thoughtful, a bit agitated, he stopped clutching his knees, relaxing his legs, before answering to him, his neat handwriting contrasting with Richie's mess:

_I’m not supposed to go there. It’s dangerous. I could realistically die._

Richie couldn't prevent himself from letting out a laugh, but he stopped quickly when he saw Eddie's look. He answered immediately, at ease with this new way of communication:

_You're not going to die, Eds. We're going to the quarry all the time, it's fun! And Mike's farm is a-okay, there aren't dangerous animals there. You won't even have to see them anyway if you don't want to. It's just to hang out with Mike, he has a lot of work to do._

Eddie sighed, hesitating before writing, red creeping on his cheeks:

_I don’t even know how to swim._

Richie gave him a shocked look, before saying out loud:

"All the more reason for you to go there and learn! I'll teach you!" 

Eddie couldn't imagine himself disobeying to his mom. Going against her recommendations. He was supposed to go home right after school. She would never let him hang out with Richie or his friends. He had to go home, to work, take his pills, spend time with her, where there wasn't any danger, where he was safe.

But Eddie was tired of being safe and protected. He wanted something else. He wanted to feel alive. So, he wrote on Richie's notebook, his hand trembling a bit:

_Okay. I'll go with you next week. But I have to find a good excuse. An extracurricular activity, something not strenuous that my mom won't get suspicious about._

Richie let out a silent "Yes!" before smiling widely, writing excitedly:

_Don't worry, Eds, I'm going to craft you the perfect lie, and you'll be able to get out of your tower every day after school. Trust me._

Trusting Richie… Eddie never trusted anyone besides his mom. Not even himself. But, for some reason, he wanted to trust Richie. He really wanted to do so...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those who might not know, Eddie's experiencing in this chapter what is called "Visual snow", a common experience (although not universal) among autistic people (but not exclusive to us, as far as I know).
> 
> It can manifest a bit differently, depending on who has it. I based Eddie's experience on mine. My visual snow is mostly consisting of white dots, that I can perceive better when I close my eyes or when I'm in the dark. A bit of static too in my vision, but mostly white dots. A lot of people tend to be annoyed by it, but I found my visual snow comforting. It's also a way to stim for me. 
> 
> End of the parenthesis ! Don't hesitate to comment, I'm always happy to read what you have to say !


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys ! Thanks for the kudos and the feedback !
> 
> I hope you'll like this new chapter ! Don't hesitate to comment, it's always a pleasure to read your feedback.

Every day, Eddie was longing for the moment Richie would knock at his door and bring him his homework. It was the only spark of joy in his day, the only moment he felt something other than weariness and boredom. He couldn't wait to go back to school, he had nothing to do at home, and he felt utterly alone. Television was boring, and he finished reading Richie's comic books too quickly.

The worst was yet to come. Eddie hated the weekend. He didn't like it much usually, because he had to stay at home with his mom and it was generally the moment she chose to bring him to his medical appointments and whatnot. No appointment this time, but Richie didn't have any excuse to come, and Eddie had to say to him that he shouldn't even try to do so. His mom wouldn't let him in without what she thought was a good reason.

So, Eddie spent most of the weekend watching TV with his mom, longing for the moment he'll finally be able to leave the house and go back to school. His black eye was healing quite nicely, thank god for that. If it was still swollen, his mom might have decided to take him out of school for another week, and Eddie couldn't bear the thought. He was suffocating, and no amount of oxygen provided by his aspirator would be able to tone down this feeling.

Sunday night came, and Eddie couldn't find sleep. He was too excited to go back to school, to go back to Richie and to meet his friends. Eddie missed him, his energy, his passion, his presence. Of course, Eddie being Eddie, he couldn't help but have some doubts about the whole deal. Maybe Richie forgot him during the weekend. Perhaps this time he spent away from Eddie made him realize that his classmate wasn't worth the trouble. Maybe Richie's friends wouldn't want to meet him or would find him annoying.

Eddie kept turning over in his bed during the night, unable to find rest. He couldn't stop his brain from imagining that he might be on his own once he'll come back to school, that Richie might sit somewhere else in their classroom. As loud and annoying as he could be in class, Eddie didn't want Richie to avoid him. But that was probably what was going to happen, right? Eddie never had any friends and couldn't think of a reason why Richie would want to be his.

Managing to cry himself to sleep, Eddie was awfully tired when he woke up the next day, but he did his best to not let his mom know about it. Even if he had to be all alone, at least, he wouldn't be at home. He could busy himself with lessons, go to the school library and just... do something else than just watch TV all day long.

He didn't even think to protest when his mom took him to school, fastening his seatbelt for him, and he gave her back a kiss on the cheek, whispering an "I love you mommy" that seemed unnatural, rehearsed too many times. Playing with his bag's straps, Eddie took a deep breath before going back to the school building. His eyes were wandering, trying to find Richie in this loud and annoying crowd of teenagers. He shouldn't be so hard to find! Tacky Hawaiian shirt, big glasses, messy hair...

Arms suddenly closed over Eddie, and he let out a yelp, his whole body tensing from the unexpected physical contact. A loud "Uh shit, sorry!" reached his ears, while the sudden hug came to an end. Eddie let out a breath, rubbing his arms quickly, trying to keep calm. He was okay. He was okay. He was just a bit surprised, that's it. He was okay.

"Sorry, Eds, I was just happy to see you! Two days without you or your mom, I felt like I was dying!" 

"Fuck you, Richie! And don't call me Eds!" 

Eddie heard a laugh, and he quickly realized that Richie wasn't on his own. That he was surrounded by his friends, four pairs of eyes scrutinizing Eddie with curiosity. He gulped, feeling uneasy, not knowing what he was supposed to do or to say. Noticing his discomfort, Richie took it from there, grinning widely:

"So, Eddie Kaspbrak, let me introduce you to the Losers Club! Starting with William Denbrough here..." 

"You... You can call me B-Bill." He stuttered, extending his hand to Eddie, waiting for him to shake it.

It took a few seconds for Eddie to catch on the gesture and to comply, ending it as quickly as possible. He hated handshakes, and he was doing everything he could to not just use his hand cleaner right here, right now.

Probably catching on his discomfort, the next guy nodded his head towards Eddie, while Richie was introducing him:

"And this is Ben Hanscom! Our own library nerd!" 

"It's Benjamin, actually. But you can call me Ben, it's okay." 

Eddie gave him a shy smile, before telling him, a bit hesitant :

"I spend a lot of time in the school library too. If you want, I'll show you what I've already read." 

The other boy beamed, eyes sparkling with happiness. Eddie immediately noticed the fond look that the only girl in the group gave him. He knew her. Or at least, he knew her name. Beverly Marsh. While Richie was introducing her to him, Eddie felt her tensing up, like she was expecting him to say something. In fact, everyone seemed to be wary, ready to jump at his throat if he dared to say something bad about Beverly.

Even without this underlying threat, Eddie wouldn't have said a single thing. He didn't know Beverly. He didn't know what kind of person she was. He couldn't judge her because of the rumors. So, waving her a bit clumsily, Eddie said :

"Nice to meet you. I hope we'll be good friends." 

After that, the atmosphere seemed lighter. The last one to be introduced was Stanley Uris, the rabbi's son. The one Richie said was... anal, like him. While making a stupid pun about how he loved pussy. The thought reddened Eddie's cheeks, and Stanley let out a sigh :

"What kind of bullshit Richie said to you, exactly? I'm pretty sure he did. He can't help it. Even with a gun put to his head, he would still talk shit about anything. It's almost admirable." 

"It is a gift!" Richie retorted loudly, while Stanley was sighing. Eddie let out a laugh, and, soon enough, he found himself at ease with the whole group. He couldn't even remember why he felt so nervous about the entire thing. He wasn't saying much, not yet, but he listened to what was said, and he answered when he was solicited. It was... nice.

"So, so, hear me out, Eddie spaghetti! I concocted this plan to let you meet Mike and come with us to the quarry regularly..." 

Richie interrupted himself when he heard an insisting cough, coming from Stanley. He rolled his eyes, resuming his speech :

"Okay, okay, WE concocted this plan. Eddie Spaghetti...”

"Stop calling me that!" Eddie yelled, annoyed, but still curious about the whole deal.

"You're now an official member of Derry High School's own chess club! Congrats!" 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, confused. Stanley took over Richie, explaining him calmly:

"I'm a member myself. Officially, we're supposed to be reunited every day after school, but they're a bit lenient about it. Monday and Wednesday are the days reserved for beginners like you and me. The other days are for standard and pro players. There are tournaments during the weekend, but you don't have to take part in it if you don't want to. You can still go there to watch it, though." 

"Basically, it's the perfect plan! Your mom doesn't have to know about the whole stuff, you'll just tell her that the club's sessions happen every day after school hours. Plus, it's always good to take part in extracurricular activities, it looks good in your school file. There's nothing less dangerous and more boring than chess, so she won't have to worry about your health!" 

Stanley rolled his eyes at Richie's speech :

"Chess is not boring, Richie. You just have the attention span of a three-year-old." 

"True, but it's still boring as hell! Bev, back me up there! Please!" 

Beverly shrugged her shoulders, smiling mischievously:

"How much are you willing to pay me for my support, Richie?" 

“Two cigarettes!”

Beverly shook her head :

"Three?" Richie asked, hoping to get a deal.

“Ten.”

“Four.”

“Nine.”

Eddie let them have their bargaining, thinking about the whole plan. He kinda liked the idea of being part of a club. A chess club. It was nerdy, but, well, Eddie was nerdy as fuck, and one more nerdy hobby won't change that fact. It might even be enjoyable. Plus, he'd be with Stanley, and he already started to like him. Actually, he began to like everyone.

But he still felt more at ease with Richie. After all, he was the only one who came into his room, for now, his own personal space. Eddie never had anyone else there, in what was usually his safe space (and sometimes his jail cell, he bitterly thought). He was noisy, chatty and he couldn't keep his hands to himself, but... but he was nice. And he was still there, even though he had his friends, even though they were a lot more interesting than Eddie could ever be...

*

Eddie sighed, curled up in the bathroom stall he usually went to when he was in trouble. With all of this, he almost forgot about Bowers. Bowers who went back to school, just like him. Bowers, who was angry as hell and trying to find the "little shit" who got him suspended. Eddie saw him while getting out of class and immediately ran to the bathroom, hoping he won't find him there.

He made a terrible mistake and a terrifying enemy. Bowers was... scary. So fucking scary. Honestly, Eddie wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly decided to murder him on the spot. That was how terrifying he was. His face will probably be on tv in the next few years, a reporter listing the many, many crimes that led him to jail or to the electric chair.

Hearing footsteps, Eddie quickly got on his feet. He gave a look to the toilet bowl, hesitating before stepping on it. He gagged, disgusted at what he was doing, but he needed to be careful. If it was Bowers coming in, he had to make sure that he couldn't see him. Maintaining himself in a precarious balance, Eddie focused on his breathing, hoping that the guy who came in would leave quickly.

He heard the door of the stall next to him being open and, suddenly, a head popped up, watching him from above:

“There you are, Major Eds!”

Startled by Richie, Eddie lost his balance and fell. He felt his right hand falling into the toilet bowl, and he let out a noisy gagging sound. Richie cursed, coming out of his stall and rattling the fragile door handle to open Eddie's stall. Eddie, white as a ghost, shaking and gagging irregularly, sweating profusely, was clearly panicking, his breathing out of control.

"Eds, Eds, it's okay, you're fine! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you! Come on, we're going to wash your hand, it's okay..." 

Richie tried to take Eddie's hand, but he shook his head and let out a whimper, unable to find his words at this instant. If Richie touched his hand, he would catch the germs too, and he would be sick, and it would be his fault!

"Okay, okay, not taking your hand... Can you get up on your own and get to the bathroom sink, pretty please? Let's wash this thoroughly. I'll wash my hands too, and I'll take your hand sanitizer in your fanny pack, and your hand will be cleaner than clean in no time. Got it, Eddie?" 

Eddie nodded miserably, letting out a sob. He felt dirty. Awfully, awfully dirty. He just wanted to avoid Bowers, and now he was going to get sick. His mom would put him in the hospital, and he'll never get out.

Mechanically, tears running down his cheeks, Eddie managed to follow Richie's plan, feeling disconnected from his own body. Richie was watching him with a concerning look, while washing his own hands:

“I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to... I was just looking for you, 'cause I got worried, and I couldn't find you anywhere. You... You okay?" 

Richie helped Eddie with his hand sanitizer, Eddie shaking too much to use it on his own. Feeling a bit of relief, knowing that he managed to clean his disgusting hand, Eddie nodded, managing to say:

“I'm... I'm okay. Just... Don't do that again, please?" 

“Yeah, sure. I promise." Richie laughed weakly. "You know, you don't have to keep hiding all alone. We... We're your friends. And yeah, we're a bunch of nerdy fucks against a whole Bowers and maybe his gang, but... you know... Losers stick together." 

_Losers stick together_. Eddie didn't even think about Richie or any of his friends when Bowers was in his sight. That he was not on his own. He didn't register yet that he was part of a group, even though he was still probably on a trial period. Eddie spent so much of his life alone that the idea of counting on someone to help him was just... ridiculous. Absurd. And yet... And yet...

Richie took care of him. He didn't make fun of him, helping him with his predicament. He could have laughed. He could have fled. But he didn't. And Eddie was grateful. So fucking grateful.

“Thanks. For... you know. Being nice and all." 

Richie raised his eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders:

“Don't thank me, Eddie Spaghetti. It was my fault you were like this, it's only fair to help you with your stuff, whatever it is. It's okay." 

Richie smiled, and Eddie forgot to chastise him for using this stupid nickname. He was just... happy. Stupidly happy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's a new chapter! I'm so happy to get to write Stanley a little, I'm hoping to get Eddie some alone time with every Loser and, apart from Richie and Eddie, Stanley is one of my favorites!
> 
> Hope you'll like it! 
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter:
> 
> TW for antisemitism  
> TW for physical abuse  
> TW for mental abuse

Eddie liked the quiet atmosphere of the chess club. Not many members, but the few that were there seemed as nerdy as he could be, and they weren't the kind of people to make noise on purpose, just for the opportunity to hear themselves. The idea made him think of Richie and, while Eddie could actually find this trait endearing at times, he would have found it so annoying at this moment…

He hadn't played chess in a while, and every time he did it, it was always on his own, using his dad's old chessboard. He never had the opportunity to play with his father, too young to comprehend the rules, but playing it on his own, trying to learn the rules, it made him feel like he was keeping his father "alive" in some way, playing with him like he never could.

His mom wasn't interested, preferring her shows on TV than to play a "silly board game" with her child. Still, she allowed him to take part in the club, and for that, he was so grateful to her. It took a bit of convincing, a lot of promises ( _Wash your hands thoroughly, take your medicine, don't come home too late, beware of the germs on the chess pieces and the boards_ and so on), but Eddie was finally able to have a tiny bit of freedom, and it was the most endearing feeling he ever felt in a long time.

Today was Wednesday, one of the days reserved to the beginners, like Stanley and him. As much as Eddie wanted to go to the quarry and have a fun time with his friends (his _friends_ , it still felt so good to just think about the word), he had to take part in the club to not make his mom feel too suspicious about the whole thing. And, to be fair, he was quite happy to be able to share that with Stanley.

He was the one who introduced Eddie to the teacher who chaperoned the club, Mrs. Beckett, the science teacher, who seemed very happy to have a new member on board. The woman was a quiet person with a piercing look, that made Eddie feel quite uneasy at first, but he relaxed when she greeted him with a nice smile and a few kind words.

And now, Eddie was facing Stanley, playing with someone else for the first time in his life. Stanley was a fascinating player to watch. His serious demeanor transpired in the game, the teenager playing every move like the world's fate depended on his victory. He was quite slow, taking his time to absorb every possible information, placing his chess pieces with a strategy that Eddie couldn't quite pinpoint.

Eddie tended to play with his guts, moving his pieces without much of a thought, as if he kinda _knew_ what he had to do, but without fully understanding much of his thought process. He wasn't bad per se, but it wasn't enough to beat someone like Stanley. Eddie couldn't prevent himself from letting out a growl when he lost, his anger dying down as soon as he saw Stanley's smile, slightly trembling, as if he was trying to stop himself from laughing.

“Sore loser, much?”

Eddie shrugged, pretending to not be affected by the whole thing when, yes, he wanted to win, and he didn't understand why he didn't, and Stanley must have cheated when he wasn't looking and…

"Me, a sore loser? I'm losing with dignity, mind you!" 

"Yes, yes, what a gracious and dignified growl you let out, Eddie..." Stanley quipped, still smiling.

Eddie shrugged again, before allowing himself to laugh, erasing the small tip of anger that started to make its appearance as soon as he lost. Stanley put the pieces back into their spot, and Eddie took this time out as an opportunity to talk a bit with him, getting to know his new friend:

“You...hmm… Richie, you and everyone, you've known each other for a while, right?" 

Stanley nodded, adjusting one of the chess pieces meticulously, seemingly never quite satisfied with its position:

"Yes. Mostly Bill, Richie and me, though. We're going back to kindergarten. We met Mike, Ben, and Beverly during last summer. But it felt like we knew each other forever, in some way. Like we were meant to be together." 

Eddie nodded, envious. He felt like this when he met this Losers' Club, but he wasn't quite sure it was the same for them towards himself. Richie was the one who introduced him, and while he felt at ease with Stanley and the others, it was still way too early to think definitely of them as "long-time friends" and it was the same of them.

Maybe they'll find him annoying really soon. A burden they were not willing to bear. His mom told him again and again, he was lucky to have her in his life because she would be there _no matter what._ Other people wouldn't, that's what she told him. They would leave, give up on him or on themselves, like his father gave up on life…

Eddie bit his lip, grounding himself like he could in the present. He didn't want his anxious thoughts to spiral when he was having a good time with Stanley. Eddie didn't want his friend to see him like this. It was already a miracle that Richie didn't just run away when he brought him his homework for the first time, and Eddie practically chased him away, unable to bear his presence or some of his words any longer. He wouldn't retake this chance, not if he had to risk losing his new (and first) friends…

Focusing on the situation, Eddie tilted his head to the right, slightly confused by Stanley's demeanor. He seemed "stuck", constantly adjusting one chess piece's position, frowning and pursing his lips. A bit nervous, not knowing how to handle the situation, Eddie started to rock on his chair, asking shyly :

"Are you okay? Can I help?" 

He must have startled Stanley, because he suddenly seemed to come back to reality, flinching, adjusting the chess piece one last time before letting it go. Stanley didn't answer and stopped arranging the chess pieces, muttering something under his breath that Eddie couldn't quite understand. Something about birds? He wasn't sure of that, but he didn't dare to ask and decided to put back the pieces, since Stanley didn't seem to want or be able to keep doing it.

"You… You want to play again?" 

Stanley looked at Eddie with a raised brow, making Eddie feel small and unsure. Did he do something wrong? Should he have said something else? Maybe he should have stayed quiet, let him keep muttering stuff… But Stanley's face was soon back to its usual serious expression, and Eddie relaxed when his friend nodded, a slight smile on his lips.

Eddie moved his pawn first, his heart getting tight and warm when he heard Stanley whispering to him:

“Thanks for not prodding.”

Taken aback by the gratitude and not sure of what he was supposed to say, Eddie shrugged once again. He wasn't even sure he deserved it. It just seemed… fair. After all, he didn't like it when people asked him why he had so much medicine on him at all times or why he had an asthma attack and whatnot. He just supposed that Stanley was the same. Whatever might have happened, he would tell Eddie about it when he'll feel ready to do so. It was as simple as that.

*

One of Eddie's conditions to take part in the chess club was to have someone else to walk him back to his house once it was done. He had asked Stanley, naturally, not sure if he would agree to this, fearing the idea of having to ask someone else, someone that he didn't know at all, but his friend accepted immediately, and Eddie thanked him, his voice laced with a clear relief.

Just as he liked playing chess with Stanley, Eddie found himself enjoying the walk back home. It was very different from what he was experiencing when he was with Richie. Richie was chatty, didn't like the silence and was always on the move.

When he was with him, Eddie talked, talked, talked, more than he ever did. He groaned at his nicknames and his mom jokes, laughed at his puns and found himself dabbling with sarcasm and witty retort when he could, beaming when he made the other boy laugh.

Time with Stanley was peaceful, quiet, slow. They would regularly stop so that Stan could pull out his binoculars from his bag, noticing a bird that Eddie wouldn't be able to name, watching them for a bit before writing down something in a notebook. Eddie asked him a few questions at first, but he couldn't find in himself the will to be interested long enough to keep up the attitude.

Stan didn’t seem to mind. He was in his own little world, happy to answer, but seemingly content with the simple fact that Eddie let him do his thing and didn't mock him or tried to hurry him. To be fair, Eddie wasn't looking forward to the moment he'll see his house. He didn't want to go home. He wanted to spend time with his new friends and get to know them like he got to know Richie and Stanley. But he had no choice…

Eddie took a deep breath when they finally arrived, his heartbeat getting a bit faster. He wanted to ask Stanley to go away, now that they were here, but he had to prove to his mom that he was obeying her and following her requests, so they had to ring the bell together. Eddie wasn't sure he wanted Stanley to meet his mom. She didn't like Richie much, and he was convinced that it would be the same for Stanley…

He braced himself when the door opened, tensing visibly when his mother hugged him, not giving a single look to Stanley.

"Eddie bear, I was so worried! What took you so long?" 

Eddie sighed, doing his best to handle his mom's touch when it felt wrong in a way he couldn't quite comprehend or describe. He didn't dare to look at Stanley, sure that he would find him pathetic and ridicule. Fifteen years old and still treated like a child… Stanley was probably mocking him right at this moment. He'll share what he had heard and saw with everyone else, and they would all find Eddie stupid and unfit to be their friend…

“Ma, it’s not even dinner time, it’s fine.”

"I decide what's fine or not, Eddie sweetie! And I think it took you too long to come back home!" 

Her attention shifted to Stanley, who was watching her with his piercing look, seemingly unimpressed, his posture right and every bit of perfect. Eddie admired him, wanting himself to cower, feeling an apology already making its way through his throat because he dared contradict his mother and she wasn't okay with it and…

“Is it his fault? Why is he still here anyway? Oh, I bet I know why!" 

A crooked smile made its way on her face, an expression that Eddie didn’t like at all. Stanley barely reacted to that, his eyebrow raising slightly. She pointed him with her finger, aiming for the yarmulke that he was wearing on his head, claiming triumphantly:

"I know your kind, boy! You're probably expecting some kind of reward, right? You can go away because I'm not going to give anything to a dirty jew like y..." 

Eddie didn’t know what possessed him. Usually, he would stay silent when his mom was like that, shameful, but too afraid to say anything. But Stanley had been nothing but kind to him, and he couldn't just let her say something like that to his friend!

Placing himself as a shield between Stan and his mom, raising his arms up, eyes closed, Eddie let out a furious "NO!", a scream that shook him to his core. He repeated it again, shaking and sweating, feeling some tears rolling down his cheeks. No.

He never said no to his mom. He let her buckle his seatbelt when he was clearly old enough to do so, he agreed to take every kind of medicine she gave him, he went to every medical appointment, watched every single one of her shows with her, but… but he actually said no. No to her face. He opened his eyes and closed them again instantly, feeling the fear creeping back and invading every part of his body and soul.

He never said no to her. And he never saw her that angry. An anguished yelp came out of his lips. He felt Stanley's hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, avoiding his touch. He turned towards his friend, and what Stanley saw must have convinced him that he would only make the situation worse because he took a step back. Eddie heard him addressing a "Nice meeting you, Mrs. Kaspbrak" that seemed courteous enough to hide the sarcasm that Eddie could feel dripping from his words, before giving him a worried look and finally going away.

His mom put her fingers on his arm and dug her fingernails in the skin. Eddie yelped once again, yelling a terrified "Sorry!" while she dragged him behind her, leading him to the bathroom:

"I can't believe this dirty boy dared to touch you, Eddie bear! But don't worry, Ma is going to wash away the germs and the diseases, and you'll be my clean, nice boy once again." 

“Stanley is not dirty, he’s my fri…!”

Eddie interrupted himself when she slapped him. His mom never slapped him. She never hit him. She yelled, and she threatened him, and she took away some of his stuff and some of his privileges, but she never… she never…

Shocked, Eddie felt his mind going numb, allowing his mom to undress him and keep saying all of those horrible things about his friend, unable to retort a single thing, unable to protest. His cheek was red and hot, but more than the physical pain, Eddie was… he was… he couldn't even find a proper word to describe how he felt. He knew that he was crying and that the way his mom was scrubbing his skin was painful, but he couldn't quite feel it, like he was far away from the world, from everything else. Once she finished washing him, she dressed him in his pajama and hugged him tightly, whispering to his ear many "I love you, Eddie bear" and "Mama will protect you".

Eddie found himself leaning into the touch, eyes closed, looking for this expression of love after seeing her so angry, after having been hit by his mother for the first time in his life. He didn't want to see her like that anymore. But… But he also wanted to see his friends again and to play chess with Stanley and… and…

“… ‘Am s… sorry, Ma...”

He cried, and he sobbed, and he whined in her arms, lost and confused, not knowing what he was supposed to feel, what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to say. He just wanted to feel peaceful, not have all of those bad thoughts swirling in his head, to understand what he wanted and what was happening to him. He wanted everything to be simple, and it wasn't. Or maybe it was. Obeying to his mom. Stop seeing his friends. It was simple. But it was so, so painful…

Eddie took his medicine, ate without knowing what he was putting in his mouth, feeling tired and fuzzy. He felt relieved when he found himself under the warm and sweet texture of his blanket, sighing when his mom kissed him on the temple and caressed his hair.

"I hate that I had to hit you, Eddie bear, but this dirty boy was already planting bad thoughts in you, and I couldn't let him do that to you. I don't want to see you with him again, do you understand?" 

Eddie didn’t understand. And he didn't want to understand. But he was scared, and he was hoping that he could still go to the chess club and see his friends and, most of all, he was confused. Confused enough to let out a sleepy "Yes, Ma..." past his lips, soon feeling too tired to even understand what his mom was saying to him.

He slept through the night, through nightmares of germs, violence, and dirt, his mom towering over him, scrubbing his skin raw until Eddie was nothing but bones and flesh. And he was alone. His friends weren't there because his Ma was right and nobody was willing to put up with him for too long, and they'd rather avoid him or die than to stay with him any longer.

But his Ma was there for him. She'll always be there for him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much Richie in this chapter, but he'll come back next chapter (might even be from his point of view, if I feel inspired to do so). 
> 
> And for those wondering why Eddie and Stanley are considered as beginners in the chess club, here's my take on it:
> 
> Eddie had only played with himself, so he doesn't really know how to play, besides the basic rules. As for Stanley, it's actually something I'll talk about a bit longer in another chapter, so bear with me until then :D.
> 
> Don't hesitate to leave comments and kudos ! I'm always happy to read and see them c:.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the seventh chapter!
> 
> As always, thank you for your comments and your kudos! I hope you'll like it!

When he woke up this morning, Eddie felt even worse than the day before. He was... exhausted. He slept through the night, but it was like he spent the whole night eyes open, waiting for the morning to arrive. He did his best to not let his mom see that, forcing a smile on his lips, making an effort to let out a few words when all he wanted was to stay quiet, go back to his room and turn off the light.

But if he allowed himself to do that, Eddie was absolutely sure that his mom wouldn't let him go to school for the rest of the week. And, by doing so, she would prevent him from seeing his friends, when Eddie desperately wanted to be with them. He especially wanted to apologize to Stan, shivering while thinking about the terrible words his mom had for him.

One moment, he thought about confronting her. Eddie didn't understand why she had been so violent towards him, so prejudiced against his friend and his belief, and that wasn't something he could just accept from her. But his cheek, the one she slapped yesterday, felt hot and red when he tried to psych himself up to stand up to her, and he didn't dare to do it, afraid, shameful. Besides, he wasn't even sure he could bring himself to say anything other than the usual stuff to her. Or to anyone else. He was… tired. So, so tired…

While his mom was in another room, Eddie caught himself drifting away, eyes closed, head nodding. He shook his head violently, chasing away the fog trying to capture his mind, scratching the palm of his hands nervously. The pain helped him to stay awake, a bit more alert. Today was going to be a complicated day… But he'll make it through. He had to.

Eddie grimaced once he arrived at school, forced to handle the noise and everything else. Was it so noisy before? He had the feeling that every little noise was trying to rupture his eardrums, whether it was someone else's laugh or just the fact that he was hearing everyone's footsteps, an arrhythmic hell that he couldn't block out.

Walking like some kind of zombie, Eddie barely realized that he came across Stanley, his friend catching up to him quite easily, waving his hand in front of his eyes. Eddie stopped himself and blinked slowly, raising his head towards Stan before waving clumsily to him:

“Hi, Stan...”

Eddie felt like he had to pull out every word from his throat, an effort that was taking up most of his energy, barely letting him enough to keep standing up. If he was less confused, Eddie could have probably understood that Stanley was visibly worried, but right now, he couldn't comprehend this simple fact.

"S… Sorry about my… my mom. She… uh… I..." 

Eddie couldn't find the right words to finish his sentence. They stayed stuck, stuck in his mind, stuck in his throat, and he went silent once again, his eyes wandering, unable to even look at Stanley's face for more than a few seconds. Stanley who asked him seriously, seemingly wanting to put a hand on his shoulder, but hesitating to do so:

"Did she hurt you?" 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, confused by Stanley's question. Why would he ask him that? And why would he care anyway? He shrugged, not really knowing what to answer. His mom did slap him, but he deserved it, right? He talked back to her, he was mean, so it was only right that she did that… No? Even though she said all of those terrible things to Stan, Stan who had been nothing but kind to Eddie.

“Eds!”

Suddenly, Richie was there. He barely shouted, but it was enough to make Eddie flinch, to put his hands on his ears as a reflex, his breath catching itself in his throat. He started to wheeze audibly, struggling to take his inhaler in his fanny pack with one hand, the other tensing itself painfully on his ear. One puff. Two. Three.

Slowly, Eddie managed to calm himself down, but he was still tired. So, so tired. Eyes down, he didn't see the glancing looks that all of his friends were exchanging, before Richie said to him, in a quieter voice:

"Are you okay, Eds? Do you want to go to the infirmary?" 

Eddie shook his head. No. Not the infirmary. His mom would know. And she would take him out of school for the rest of the week, maybe more. He wanted to stay with his friends, even if they were too loud for him right now.

His thoughts stayed focused on one single objective, something he felt he didn't accomplish yet. Looking at Stanley for a few seconds, he repeated, as if his friend might not have heard him the first time:

"Sorry about my mom. I'm… I'm really sorry." 

"It's okay." Stan immediately retorted, keeping his voice low. "I heard worse things from other people. It was pretty tame in comparison. It was shitty of her, but I'm used to it. And it's not your fault." 

A slight smile on his lips, he added :

"Thank you for defending me. It was brave of you to stand up to her. Really brave." 

"Don't you know?" Richie interjected, putting his hand on Eddie's head, taking it off as soon as he saw him flinching under the touch. "Eds is a knight in shining armor! Standing up to Henry for me AND his mom for you, a true hero! I hope she's still up for some kinky time with me, though, after all of that..." 

Eddie wanted to tell Richie to shut up, but the words didn't make it past his throat, and he was barely able to let out a weird noise. His cheeks red, he put his hand on his mouth, avoiding everyone's gaze as much as he could. He wanted to run away, to cry, even to scream, but he didn't, shaking slightly, eyes down.

"Okay, we're going to our classroom, Eds and I." Richie waved to Bill, Bev, Stan, and Ben, before trying to catch Eddie's attention without touching him or talking too loud. "Come with me?" 

Eddie stayed still for a moment, before forcing himself to move, following Richie to their classroom. Everything was still so loud, so confusing. The lights were too bright, and he could smell sweat and perfume and so many different odors that he felt like he was going to throw up. He slumped into his chair, putting his stuff slowly on his desk, as if he was battling against quicksand.

"Stan told us what happened. Are you okay, Eds? You seem… I don't know. Not like your usual self, I guess." 

Eddie shrugged once again. He was tired, but it wasn't unusual. He was always exhausted when he went through something like the day before, he was used to it. He knew he'd feel better tomorrow, but he had to go through this day first. It was probably because he was so fragile. Maybe he should take a pill for that. Though he didn't know which one and he certainly didn't want to ask his mom about it. He wouldn't hear the end of it otherwise.

Richie was shaking his legs nervously, eyes focused on Eddie. Eddie didn't have to look at him to know it, he could feel the vibrations he was producing while doing so, hear the way his knee was knocking against his desk… Gnawing on his lower lip, Eddie did his best to not acknowledge it, to think about something else, but he couldn't.

He barely realized that the teacher arrived, that the lesson started. Blinking slowly, hand clutched on his pen, he tried to write what he could hear his teacher say, but he could barely make out a few words and what he was writing wasn't legible at all, a bunch of scribbles that he would be unable to decipher after all of this.

Eddie was far, far away from the rest of the world. His thoughts were fuzzy, confused, bringing him back to his mom, to her slapping him, to her words towards Stan, towards himself. He felt a hand on his, and his eyes drifted towards Richie, not realizing that he was clawing at his skin, that he was hurting himself and that Richie stopped it.

He heard him whispering something akin to "I'm sorry" before Richie raised his hand, asking to take Eddie to the infirmary. He tried to protest, but he stayed silent, barely being able to stand on his feet, forced to lean on Richie while he was dragging him out of the classroom. Once they were out, he managed to beg, his voice barely audible:

“Please… don’t want to...”

"You're dead on your feet, Eds. You need to rest." Richie said, his tone inflexible.

Eddie knew. He knew that they would call his mom. That he wouldn't be able to go to the quarry with his friends. That he wouldn't be able to see them for a while. At the thought, he suddenly burst into tears, making Richie stop immediately. He cried and wheezed and snorted, begging incoherently. Not knowing what to do, pale as a ghost, Richie led Eddie to the bathroom, taking off his Hawaiian shirt so that Eddie could sit on it instead of the dirty floor.

"Shh, Shh, I'm sorry. We're not going to the infirmary, okay? I promise. Eds, please, you need to calm down, you're scaring me here..." 

But Eddie couldn't stop. His thoughts were swirling in his head, thoughts of his mom hitting him, scratching his skin while washing him, her awful words. It was too much. Too much. Too much. His friends, they were going to leave him, and he'd be all alone with his mom, and he'd never make friends again and… and… and…

Richie took Eddie's hand in his and Eddie realized that he was hitting himself, something he hasn't done since… since his father passed away many, many years ago. Hiccuping, snorting, Eddie let Richie wipe his face with a tissue, clutching his fingers in his. He didn't hate that, Richie's fingers in his. It was… grounding him, actually. He followed Richie's breathing pattern when his friend asked him to do so, calming himself down, his tears drying slowly on his cheeks.

His eyes met Richie's for a short time, before drifting towards his lips, who were stretching into a reassuring smile. His friend let go of his hand, ruffling Eddie's hair:

“Better, Eddie Spaghetti?”

Eddie hiccuped once again, managing to articulate slowly:

“Don’t… call me… that.”

Richie laughed, getting up and reaching out to Eddie to help him up:

"Yup, definitely better. Thank fucking god. Still no to go to the infirmary, I guess ?" 

Eddie grimaced, his answer clear as crystal. He couldn't risk it. Maybe they wouldn't call his mom, but… but he couldn't be sure of that.

"I'd say we ditch school, but they would definitely warn your mom, and you'd be in big trouble. We should probably head back to class. You won't have to force yourself to listen, I'll make sure to write down everything for you. Probably no quarry this afternoon, but we could all go to my house, I guess? If you're up for it, of course." 

Eddie nodded, smiling weakly. He was exhausted, but he wanted to spend time with his friends as much as he could. Besides, he never went to anyone else's house, so he couldn't help, but be curious and even impatient about the whole thing. Even though he could barely stay on his feet right at this moment.

"Okay, you can lean on me, Eds. My strong arms will carry you everywhere!" 

Richie flexed his muscles exaggeratedly, making Eddie giggle a little, before leading him back to class.

*

Surviving through the day was hellish. Eddie barely said a word to anyone, even to his friends, when he saw them again during the lunch break, and he couldn't remember a single moment of his lessons. Still, he managed to keep his head up and soon, it was time to leave school.

Bill left them to look for Mike, while the rest went to Richie's house. Eddie was starting to feel quite nervous. He didn't want to make a bad impression on Richie's parents if they were there, but he was too tired to correct his behavior and think about his attitude. He hoped they wouldn't think too badly of him.

Perched on Richie's bike, Eddie closed his eyes, arms gripped around Richie's waist. If he were more energetic, he would have probably yelled about safety issues and refused the mere idea of riding Richie's bike with him. But that wasn't the case, and Eddie found himself relaxing, the wind caressing his face, his ears focused on the regular rattling sound of the bicycle chains. He could almost picture himself flying, flying away from everything and everyone…

But they arrived, and the sweet dream vanished, forcing Eddie to deal with his anxious thoughts and battle with his exhaustion. He gave a weak smile to everyone when they looked at him, not wanting to worry them or ruin their enjoyment.

Richie didn't bother to knock, coming into the house while shouting "I'm home!" to anyone who might be here. He immediately apologized to Eddie, who had clutched his ears at the sudden noise, but Eddie just shrugged, starting to get used to Richie's antics. He was just too tired to handle too much noise right now…

Richie's father was working, but his mom was home, greeting them with a smile. She kissed her son's cheek, before gently reminding him to take off his shoes. He let out a "Yes, boss!" while groaning exaggeratedly and Eddie couldn't stop himself from flinching, waiting for Richie to be yelled at and punished for his behavior.

But his mother laughed and let it go immediately, inquiring about everyone's life, as if Richie didn't disrespect her in any way. Eddie didn't understand, but he didn't have the time to think about it further. In front of him, Mrs. Tozier was already there, offering him the nicest smile he has ever seen on a mother's face. He felt his heart melt, his throat closing up, while he was doing the best he could to not just cry right here, right there.

"I never saw you," she said, looking at him with her sparkling eyes, that made him think about Richie's own eyes. "I bet you're Eddie, right? Richie can't stop talking about you, I'm glad I can finally meet you." 

Richie groaned once again, while everyone else but Eddie was laughing. He was having troubles to think, to talk, to breathe. Richie talked about him to his mom. And she… she actually listened to him. And she remembered Eddie's name. She remembered him. He parted his lips but didn't manage to say a single word, a wheezing sound coming out of his mouth.

He quickly took his inhaler, using it once again, hating that he could already see her getting worried. Surely, she was going to call his mom, make him go home and his mother would learn about their lie and know that he wasn't at the chess club and he wouldn't be able to see his friends again and…

Mrs. Tozier called Eddie gently, cupping his face in her hands. She was holding him firmly, but it wasn't hurtful, unlike his mom's touch most of the time.

"Breathe with me, okay, sweetheart?" 

Just like Richie, she guided Eddie in his breathing rhythm, managing to ground him. He wanted this moment to last forever, her sweet hands on his cheeks, but he finally got a hold on his breath, and she stopped touching him. He started to lean into her palms, and his face went red. But no one said a single thing, and the whole thing was soon forgotten, while they were all lead to the kitchen.

"If I knew that your friends were coming, I would have cooked something, Richie!" His mom whined with a playful smile. "No job interview today, I was bored out of my mind." 

"It's fine, mom. Besides, I'm still way too young to die from food poisoning, so..." 

She flicked him on the forehead, leading Richie to let out a theatrical "Ow!". Eddie couldn't stop himself from watching them interact, not understanding their dynamic. It wasn't supposed to be like this… Eddie would have been punished by his mother way before. He had no right to be cheeky as Richie was and… and it was normal, right? A child was supposed to respect his mom and to obey her no matter what, right?

He sat on the couch with the others, mute, eyes wandering in Richie's house. Everything was so… different. There were so many pictures, pictures of Richie, of his parents, of them together, smiling, laughing. His own home felt so cold, in comparison. Not a single picture of his father, for a start. And none of the pictures he had felt like… those. So natural. So loving. So… So full of life.

"Do you want a cookie, Eddie?" 

Eddie jumped on his seat, looking at the plastic package that Richie's mom handed to him. He could hear his mother's voice berating him, telling him that it was bad for his health, that he was allergic to peanuts and that there were probably some in it, that he could _die._ He shook his head, smiling weakly. He had some difficulties talking, touching his throat with his fingertips to feel the words coming out:

"Thank you, Mrs. Tozier, but I'm not hungry." 

"Oh, you can call me Maggie, no need to be so formal! Feel free to help yourself whenever you want, okay?" 

She put down the plastic package, and Eddie chased away the thought that yes, he wanted to eat it. He wanted to take this cookie, taste it, and feel something sugary in his mouth, to eat with everyone else. But he was fragile, and he had to take care of his health. He couldn't… He couldn't just… do that.

For a while, Eddie listened to everyone else talking. When Mike and Bill arrived, Richie introduced him to Mike, the teenager seeming quiet and gentle. Eddie immediately felt at ease with him, but he was too tired to interact appropriately with him. Mike didn't seem to mind, giving him a smile here and there, talking with everyone else.

Soon, Eddie found himself unable to understand a single word, but he still listened to his friends and watched them interact, smiling at Richie's excitement, how much he was moving his body while talking. He was slowly getting sleepy when he heard a familiar beeping coming from his watch.

Eyes fluttering, he reacted immediately, reaching in his fanny pack for the meds he was supposed to take, swallowing them dry, before going back to his slumber, not noticing how everyone was glancing at him. He was starting to sleep soundly when Richie nudged him gently:

"Eds, I think it's time. Your mom's going to get worried. I'll take you home." 

Eddie rubbed his eyes, confused, tired. He nodded, letting Richie helping him up, following him to the house's entrance. He was so exhausted… He barely managed to tie his shoes, feeling himself dozing off. He tried to say goodbye to everyone, but only yawned, unable to articulate a single word. It became soon obvious that he would be unable to ride with Richie and Richie doubted that Eddie could walk to his home.

Eddie heard him talking briefly to his mom, but couldn't make out what they were both saying. Mrs. Tozier called Eddie gently to get his attention, guiding him outside towards her car. He waited for her to buckle his seat-belt, as his mom did, but she merely told him to do so, and he did it on his own, for the first time in many, many years. As soon as the car started, Eddie went back to sleep, waking up when they arrived.

Realizing that he couldn't let his mom see him like that, he shook his head furiously to wake himself up, as much as he could. He tried to thank Mrs. Tozier, but only managed to let out an inarticulate noise. He needed to get a grip so that his mom wouldn't get suspicious. He just needed to sleep. He'll be fine tomorrow. Probably.

He walked towards his door, ringing the bell. He let his mom guide him inside, her hands gripping firmly on his shoulders, nodding when she asked him about his meds. She also asked him about the person that brought him home, worried that he came back in someone else's car, but she calmed down when Eddie weakly told her that Richie's mom brought him back "from the chess club". She apparently knew her enough to not make too much of a fuss about it, thank god for that…

Dozing off here and there, Eddie was relieved when his mom finally let him go to sleep. His last thoughts were for his friends and how impatient he was to spend time with them at the quarry or anywhere else.

He dreamed of his mom, of a tender touch on his cheek and a happy family. A sweet, beautiful dream he never wanted to wake up from...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, the aftermath of a meltdown or a shutdown is always the worst... Sometimes, I need two to three days to get over it, it's harsh. 
> 
> I hope you liked it! I wanted to portray Maggie as a good mom, I feel like it works better for my story that way. Next chapter is probably going to be from Richie's POV, I want to shed a light on how I imagine his relationship with his parents. 
> 
> Don't hesitate to leave kudos and to comment! Thanks again for reading my fanfic!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone ! 
> 
> Today's chapter is from Maggie Tozier's POV. Yeah, didn't expect that one ? Me neither, to be fair. 
> 
> I hope you'll like it. See you later !

Maggie couldn't stop thinking about Richie's new friend. Driving back to her home, her thoughts drifted towards the teenager, what her son had told her about him, what she had seen of him. A part of herself wanted to keep him from going back to his house, to his mother. She had to shut it down, because it was unreasonable of her, but this voice was still quite loud in her head.

She knew Sonia Kaspbrak, more than a lot of people. Not only because they used to work together, but also because they shared a few classes, back in the day. Maggie was the popular one, the one people tended to be attracted to, in a platonic way or not, the one whose name actually evoked something in the students' mind. Sonia was… well, Sonia. She wasn't hated per se, but no one really wanted to make an effort to befriend her, and she wasn't one to go to other people either.

Maggie always had this mentality that pushed her to take care of everyone, trying to make sure they were okay, that they were happy. She was pretty sure she passed it to her son, her dear son. So, naturally, she started to talk to Sonia, here and there. Quickly, it became clear that they had nothing in common. Still, Maggie took the time to see her classmate, to engage her in a meaningful way. She hoped so, at least.

Sonia was… strange. At times, she was so sweet that Maggie felt like she was made of sugar. Too sweet. Almost exaggeratedly, like she was putting on a show or something. Other times, she was rambling about other people with a venomous tongue, about their looks, behavior, and everything that could set them apart. Maggie hated these moments, that made her feel terribly awkward.

She was no angel and could talk behind people's back here and there, but Sonia was on another level. She would share with Maggie things that Maggie would rather never have to hear about, with striking words and a spark of hate in her eyes. On the other hand, she would loudly complain to her and even sob when she heard some mean stuff about her coming from others students, not understanding why they would be so "cruel to her".

Maybe Maggie should have said something. But would she have made any difference in Sonia's life? It was a learned behavior, coming from Sonia's mom, herself having learned it from her own parents. Sonia's family was plagued with hatred, knowing how to steer conflict as efficiently as an apple of discord tossed into a crowd for people to fight for it. A venom so potent that Maggie doubted anything could have purged it.

Still, she was there for her classmate, maybe out of pity. Sonia had no one else, and Maggie hated to see that. Even though it was probably mostly of her own doing. University came by, and they didn't see each other for years until they found themselves working together.

Maggie was genuinely happy to see that her ex-classmate was doing well, patiently listening to her rambling about her son and her husband. She was herself quite happy in her own way, but she didn't want to share too much. Sonia still had her venomous tongue, and Maggie hated the idea that she could betray her trust, talk to their other colleagues about her son, her husband.

She wasn't particularly secretive about them, but she kept their hyperactive disorder to herself, knowing that Wentworth wasn't comfortable talking about it and refusing to have people judge her Richie before getting to know him. Only God knew how sometimes she would have loved to have an understanding ear to talk to.

As much as she loved her family, it could be exhausting, having to deal with all of that. Meds were expensive and not always working properly. Went was having trouble at work at the time and was nervous and jittery as soon as he came home, getting angry at the tiniest thing, going from screaming to crying in a matter of seconds. Richie wasn't doing so well in kindergarten, unable to stand still in his seat for more than a couple of minutes, dealing pretty badly with any authoritative figure. Maggie was strong and willing, but it was still hard to handle, especially since she felt so powerless to help them with their issues.

But she wouldn't talk to Sonia about that. She wouldn't. But Sonia did. She spoke about her husband's health, how much it was deteriorating, how tiring it was for her to have to care for him as soon as she came home, not having one minute for herself. Her words made Maggie cringe quite a few times, and she couldn't help, but pity the poor Frank Kaspbrak, who didn't have any privacy left.

Everyone at the office knew about his condition and what it entailed. Sonia seemed to bask in everyone's encouraging words, their concern, the attention that they gave to her. That's what she wanted, Maggie understood finally. People to care for her. To look at her. To praise her. But no matter how Maggie was repulsed by this very idea, she had no doubt that Sonia cared for her husband, in her twisted way.

When he finally died, she didn't return to the office for a while. When she did, she was pale and barely talkative, keeping to herself, crying when she thought no one else could see her. She wasn't looking for anyone's opinion or attention. She was grieving, and she didn't know how to handle it. Maggie couldn't imagine the pain that she was feeling. Just the simple idea of losing Went was too much. But losing him for real? Never get to see him again? To talk to him again? She wouldn't be able to handle it.

So, she was there for Sonia, as much as she could. Then, she saw a shift in her attitude. How she let people see her cry, went looking for consolation, for them to look at her and talk to her. She started to talk a lot more about her son, about his issues, how fragile he was getting, how scared she was to lose him too. Everyone thought of her as the mother of the year, exhausting herself for her sick son. Maggie didn't know what to make of that.

At first, she thought about finally talking about Richie too, about his issues. Trying to create some solidarity between two mothers doing their best. But she didn't and, to this day, Maggie was so glad she made this choice. Just like with her husband, Sonia overshared. Maggie learned so much about the young Eddie, it was making her feel uneasy.

From what Sonia told her, she had no doubt that the kid had some kind of condition, like Richie, but Sonia focused primarily on the idea that he was physically ill and Maggie didn't want to pry too much and make some armchair diagnosis when she had never even met the boy.

She never had the time to suggest for their boys to meet and play, because their company wasn't doing so well and Maggie was among those who were "asked" to leave. Sonia wasn't. It had been quite a few years since then, and she didn't take the time to see Sonia again, too busy trying to find a job that would stick and to take care of her family.

But when Richie had started to talk about his new friend, Maggie knew that she would have to rekindle with Sonia, one day or another. She didn't look forward to it, to be honest. But Richie was so enthusiastic when he talked about Eddie, telling her the tales of how he saved him from the school's bully (Maggie and Went tried their best to get the school to do something about Henry Bowers but to no avail), how brave he was, how smart he was, how kind he was…

Maggie was always glad when Richie made some new friends. She loved every one of them, and she was so happy to know that they were there for her son as much as he was there for them. At first, she was afraid that her boy would get lonely, as Went had been when he was younger. Richie was talkative, he could be obnoxious, not knowing when to stop, when to be silent. His humor was not for everyone, even though Maggie loved it and certainly encouraged it (well, most of it, at least. She wasn't sure about the way his humor had started to get cruder these last months…). He was a trouble magnet and, as smart as he was, school was definitely not for him.

Still, he made friends. Loyal friends. People that could get him, that had their fair share of issues. Maggie thought of them as some kind of wolf pack, with an "us vs. them" mentality, licking their wounds and surviving as much as they could in a world that wasn't meant for them. Maybe she should have encouraged Richie to seek other people's friendship, like she did when she was younger, to not close himself from anyone that didn't belong to the "Losers club". But Richie was not her, and he was happy like he was. She had no business telling him what to do in this case.

Eddie was among those friends now. Maggie couldn't believe how genuinely sweet the boy looked like, unlike his mother. She had felt her heart breaking when she witnessed his panic, his exhaustion. She had no idea why he was like that, but she had other priorities at the moment. Making sure he could breathe properly. Getting him the comfort he needed. God, the teenager was leaning into her hands when she started to touch him… If Maggie Tozier wasn't tough as nails, she would have cried on the spot.

She visibly cringed when she saw him swallowing his medicine dry, without even flinching. She couldn't help but think about Richie and how he would loudly complain about his own medicine and sometimes "forget" to take it, saying how disgusting it was and that it could "knock out an elephant". Eddie, on the other hand, even in his slumber, just had to hear his watch's beeping to reach for his meds and meekly swallow the pill. Something that he was trained for, no doubt about it.

She was worried. She couldn't exactly pinpoint why, but she was concerned. She tried to tell herself that Eddie had been sick since he was very young, that he was used to taking a lot of meds every day, that he was probably fragile, and that's why he was so exhausted when she brought him back to his home. But she couldn't make this feeling go away, no matter what.

And then, there was everything else. What Richie told her about him. What she saw during the brief time she met him. Just from what Sonia told her years ago, Maggie had this feeling that Eddie was different, not unlike her husband and Richie. And the feeling was still there, from the way he didn't quite look at her when he talked to her to how he moved his fingers, tapping them on his skin, curling them against his chest, in a way that didn't seem totally conscious. The fact that it was so hard for him to talk, in a way that couldn't just be attributed to him being tired.

Maggie knew what it was to be exhausted and it never made her feel like that. She never had to visibly force the words out of her throat, like Eddie did. And it wasn't something that Richie or Went did either. She knew she had to talk to Sonia about her boy, one day or another. She had no doubts that the woman was still keen to overshare, especially if Maggie did her best to make her feel like a Saint for what she was going through. She hated the idea, but Maggie had to make sure that Eddie was okay. That her son's friend was alright.

Richie was worried too, Maggie saw it immediately when she got back home, and he went directly to her, leaving his friends behind for a while, prodding her with questions. She did her best to reassure him, but she wasn't sure that she managed it. She let him guide his friends to his room, while she took a beer bottle in the fridge and crashed into her couch. She sighed loudly, letting the bitter drink invade her mouth and her thoughts.

She knew it was too early to drink, but she needed to. Everything was stressing her. The fact that she couldn't find a job. How the Bowers boy kept trying to hurt her son and how powerless she felt about the whole thing. Everyone judging her for being unemployed and drinking a bit too much. And now, there was Eddie too. Fuck, Maggie had too much on her plate right now. Way too much on her plate. Worrying about the whole world was wearing her down.

When Wentworth came home, Maggie had finished her drink and was seriously considering opening another bottle. She was relieved to see him before she took this decision. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him into a hug, kissing him, confiding into him. And he listened to her, giving her his full attention. Oh, she loved him so much, her hunk of a husband, so tall, so comforting.

He didn't comment on the beer bottle, but she knew that he would probably dissuade her if she tried to take another one. So she didn't. She just talked and talked and talked. She needed it. She needed to be the one that would be listened to, from times to times. His hand was caressing her hair and skin, unable to stay in one spot for too long. She appreciated the touch.

"Maybe I should have come with him, talk to Sonia… Went, he has to _lie_ to meet with his friends. It's.. It's sketchy. I don't know. I feel useless." 

"You're not." Wentworth reassured her, planting a kiss on her forehead. "You're doing your best, Mags. You need to cut yourself some slack. Besides, you just met the kid. Leave yourself some time to figure out what to do, don't rush into this head-on. Think it through." 

Maggie laughed, playfully pinching her husband's cheek:

"Oh, that's rich coming from Mr. Impulsivity himself! When did you ever take the time to think before acting?" 

"When I tried to come up with the best plan to propose to you, of course. It took me months, and I was still not satisfied with the end result. Still, you said yes, so in the end, it worked well." 

Of course, she said yes. She would have said yes to a Ring Pop, to him proposing to her while she was in the bathroom, she was even starting to think to propose to him when he finally mustered the courage to do so. If there was one thing she didn't regret in her life, it was that: saying yes to Wentworth Tozier. Marrying him. And having Richie as a son.

She kissed her husband once again, and she heard a loud "Gross!" coming from the hall. She giggled and stuck out her tongue to her son, who rolled his eyes.

"My friends are leaving, so stop with the PDA for a second, Mom, Dad! Seriously, you're gross." 

He pretended to gag, but Maggie knew better. She knew how much he loved his family and how united they were. Life hadn't been easy on them, and their bonds grew tighter, stronger. It wasn't always perfect, it never was, but they were there for each other. They'll always be there.

Waving goodbye to her son's friends, she sat back on the couch with Went, gesturing for Richie to come as well. He sat between them, as he always did, and she started to mess with his hair. They were still very tactile, probably a bit touch starved. Maggie wasn't one to complain. She didn't look forward to the day she wouldn't be able to hug her son as much as she could right now. She knew she had to let him grow up, but still… He was her son.

“Eddie… Did he say something in the car? Did you see his mom?" 

Richie was still thinking about his friend. Maggie remembered the moment Bill's brother was found dead and how obsessed Richie was with him. He was always talking about Georgie, about Bill, worrying, wondering what he could do, if he made a mistake, if he hurt him somehow. Richie was a caring person, way too much. And now, Eddie was the center of his attention, what he was hyper-focusing on, and Maggie didn't know what to do to help him. To help them.

"He slept through the whole trip. I saw Sonia, but I thought that it wouldn't be appropriate to talk to her right now. Eddie was exhausted, and I didn't want to worry him more than he already was." 

Richie started to nervously pick at his skin and Went immediately gave him one of his stress balls to fidget with. Sometimes, Maggie couldn't help but envy this connection that Richie had with his father. Wentworth understood his son in ways Maggie could never hope to. All she could do was to try to be there, as much as possible.

"I don't know why he was so tired. Stan told me that his mom made a scene when he came back home yesterday. I'm… I'm afraid that she might have hurt him. He's… I don't know. He doesn't deserve that, you know? I… I just want to help him. To see him smile." 

Richie became quickly attached to his friend. That was Richie's way of loving. He was intense, lashing out in a way that could overwhelm a lot of people. Went was basically the same, which probably explained how alone he had been when he was younger.

People were put off by his intensity, the strength of his feelings. Maggie was so glad to know that her son found friends that could accept him how he was. That could handle his difference, his intensity, his energy. Richie deserved the best.

"You can't do much, buddy." Went offered with a smile. "Just keep being you, and it'll be fine. I'm sure he doesn't want you to worry too much about him. You're going to take him to the quarry tomorrow, right?" 

Richie smiled excitedly, nodding and explaining quickly:

"Yes, can you believe that he doesn't know how to swim? Since it's not too cold yet, I thought I could teach him. Maybe I'll get him to jump from the cliff one day. I mean… Not like I'll ever do that, it's forbidden, and you know me, I would NEVER break a rule!" 

Maggie rolled her eyes while he and Went started to laugh. She would lie if she said that she was totally okay with him jumping from such height, but he wasn't a kid anymore, and she knew pretty well that he would still do it even if she tried to prevent him from doing so. Richie listened to what he wanted to listen to, just like Went, just like her.

"I'm pretty sure he'll start rambling about how dangerous it is. I'm getting ready for an earful about how dirty the quarry is and the bunch of sicknesses that he might get from barely looking at it and yadi-yadi-ya. You didn't see him at his best, but, oh boy, Eddie is a fuc… freaking chatterbox, you wouldn't believe it!" 

"Yes, because you're such a quiet and reserved guy, Richie, right?" Maggie laughed at Went's quip.

“Mom, Dad, pleaaaase...”

She teased him for a bit, before they went back to a comforting silence. She loved these moments, where none of them felt the need to say a single thing, just appreciating the fact that they were there for each other. Her husband's hand on hers. They pressed around Richie, like a big human sandwich. Love. Love in its purest form.

Of course, they couldn't stay like that forever. Richie was the first to break the silence, pretending to choke because of how crushed between them he was. They ate, and they talked a bit more, Maggie always happy to hear about her husband's day, prodding her son about his school day teasingly and maybe a possible girlfriend that he would hide from them. He would always groan when she did it, never saying a thing about it.

Sometimes, she could have sworn that he thought about telling them something. Parting his lips slightly before giving up on the idea. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't know what to do to get him to confess to her. Teasing him probably wasn't the best course of action, but she was a Tozier, and the Tozier family was always using humor as a shield or their primary communication skill, which… probably wasn't the best. But still.

She hoped he would feel safe enough sooner or later to tell her what was bothering him. Maybe to his father rather than her. As long as he could talk and feel safe to do so, Maggie was okay with not being in the loop. Even if it would hurt her. It wasn't about her anyway. It was about her son's happiness, and it was more important than anything else in the world.

As always, they shared their movie night. Maggie won their passionate "Rock Paper Scissors" fight, and she picked Dirty Dancing, prompting a loud groan from both her husband and her son. Yet, Richie was quickly drawn out to the movie, as always, no matter how much they had already watched it. He seemed particularly interested in the scene where Baby ran into Johnny's arms.

Maggie was pretty sure she heard him whispering, wondering if he could convince Eddie to try to do it. The mere idea was enough to make her burst into a fit of laughter, unable to stop herself or to even explain why to her husband and her son. Soon, they followed her without even knowing why and they were laughing, laughing, laughing.

Maggie was the luckiest woman in the world. No matter what life could throw at her. She had her family. It was all that she could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was so weird to write from a neurotypical character's perspective. I hope I didn't do Maggie dirty. I wanted to share some of her backstory with Sonia and how I imagine her to be. I'll probably write again her POV in the future, maybe even from Sonia, who knows? I'd like to write Went's POV as well.
> 
> Not much Eddie in this chapter, but he'll come back in the next. Maybe, finally, I'll get him to go to the quarry xD. 
> 
> Don't hesitate to leave kudos and comments ! Thank you for your support ! See you soon !


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Hope you're doing well! 
> 
> Here's the ninth chapter of this story, hope you'll like it! 
> 
> Don't hesitate to leave kudos and comments!
> 
> TW for the r-word

"Don't you fucking dare let go of my hands, Richie!" 

Eddie was screaming at the top of his lungs, his fingers intertwined with Richie's while they were slowly progressing in the water, being watched by the rest of the Losers' club. He should have refused. That's what he did first, when they arrived at the quarry, and Richie told him to take off his clothes so that he could teach him how to swim. He said "no" and started to sputter everything he knew about water bacteria, how the whole thing could trigger an asthma attack, that he was probably allergic to a lot of stuff in the water, and that they couldn't even see.

None of his friends seemed impressed or convinced by what he was saying. Mike gently tried to encourage him to go into the water, telling him that it was safe, that they were all staying close to him, that he wouldn't risk a single thing. Ben did the same, to no avail. It's only when the others started to insinuate that he might be too scared to do it that Eddie snapped.

He couldn't let them say that. He couldn't let them think that he was too much of a coward to even get into the water (not that they used this word to describe him, but that's what he was thinking anyway).

So, stupidly, Eddie finally agreed to the whole deal and took off most of his clothes, keeping his underwear. He wanted to keep his shirt as well, but it would take too much time to dry off, and his mom might suspect that he was up to something. He was supposed to be at the chess club, after all…

And here he was, holding Richie's hands like he was clinging onto his life, shaking slightly while his mind was reminding him of every possible danger he was facing. But mostly, he was afraid of drowning. Feeling his lungs getting filled with water, without being able to do a single thing about it…

Eddie remembered too well the first (and only) time he asked his mom if he could go to the swimming pool. She warned him about the dangers of the water, showed him pictures of drowned people, that he had nightmares about for a whole month, and insisted that he couldn't take this risk, that he was too fragile. And now, here he was. At the quarry. With his friends. His whole legs in the water, his friends encouraging him to keep going.

"I won't let go of your hands, Eds, it's okay. You're doing fine, I swear you're a natural" Richie said, smiling widely, but not mocking him.

Eddie appreciated that, but he was too busy trying to not succumb to a panic attack to acknowledge it.

"Don't fucking call me Eds! Why did I agree to this bullshit? You're all going to kill me, I fucking swear!" 

When Eddie was nervous, his language became quite colorful, the "fuck" and other "shit" sliding out of his lips like butter. The others were all laughing. All of them, except Bill, who just had a small smile, like he couldn't bring himself to be openly happy and joyful. Ever since Georgie's death, it was always like this.

Eddie didn't know much about all of this, just what most people knew, and he couldn't even begin to imagine what Bill was feeling. He felt he should say something and try to help him somehow, but right now, he was mostly focusing on staying alive, getting more and more nervous while the water was surrounding him. How far did Richie want him to go? If he couldn't feel the ground under his feet, Eddie was going to scream!

"Okay, that's far enough! Try to relax, Eds. I'm going to teach you some basic stuff. I'm not trying to turn you into a full Matt Biondi, but you should be able to swim on your own once this stuff is learned." 

Richie was trying to reassure him, but Eddie was far too stressed out, griping painfully Richie's hands, his eyes darting everywhere:

"I don't know who the fuck Matt Biondi is and I don't fucking care, I just want to live to see another day, so don't you dare fucking drop my hand, Richie!" 

"He's a swimmer. An Olympic medalist." Ben felt the need to inform him of this fact, a bit shy.

"I said I didn't fucking care, for fuck's sake!" 

Eddie needed to calm down. He was becoming mean, and Ben didn't deserve that from him. None of them deserved that from him. He worked on his breathing, teary-eyed, trying to work out the courage to follow Richie's instructions. His heart was beating fast, his thoughts agitated, and he wanted to scratch his skin and evacuate all of this tension that he was feeling. But Eddie didn’t.

Slowly, very slowly, he managed to swim a bit, while Richie was still holding him and encouraging him.

"That's it, you're getting the hang of it! I told you that you could do it! You're the best, Eds!" 

They all cheered him up, Eddie feeling his cheeks reddened, not knowing how to accept their kindness. They swam for a bit, before Eddie started to feel tired and left the water, Richie following him without any hesitation. While the others kept swimming for a while, Richie pulled out a towel from his school bag, giving it to Eddie:

"Take this. It's clean, and I didn't use it recently, I swear. You'll dry faster that way. We don't want your mom to know that we were turning you into Aquaman, right?" 

Richie laughed, and Eddie giggled nervously, thanking his friend while taking the towel, starting to dry off his skin. His eyes were drifting off towards the water. He couldn't believe he actually managed to surpass his fear and to swim for a while. He never thought that he could do it.

Eddie couldn't swim. He couldn't do so many things. And yet, he managed to do it. Eddie wasn't able to get this obsessive idea out of his head. He swam, and he didn't drown. He didn't have an asthma attack, not even when he was panicking.

He was alive. He was fine. A part of him wanted to tell his mom about it, to prove to her that he wasn't as fragile as she thought he was, but he knew better than to do that. If his mom knew, Eddie was pretty sure he'll be definitely home-schooled and that he could never see his friends again. No, better to keep it as a secret. He couldn't risk losing all of that. His newfound freedom and, most of all, his friends.

"You were great, Eds. I'm serious." Richie had put back his glasses on, laying on a rock and letting the sun hit his pale skin. "Next time, we'll try to get you to swim without holding my hand. Pretty sure you'll jump from this cliff in no time!" 

Richie pointed the cliff that he mentioned with his index finger. Eddie looked at it, feeling an intense shiver shaking his body at the mere thought of doing it. No. Never. Certainly not.

"Stop trying to kill me, Richie. Seriously. I could break every bone of my body while doing that. I could hit my head on a rock and die or sustain serious damage. You never know!" 

"Yeah, but you also could not do all of this, right? Why are you always picturing the worst that could happen? So far, it didn't, am I wrong? Everything went pretty great, you gotta admit that!" 

Eddie rolled his eyes, while the rest of the Losers club were joining them:

"You forgot that Bowers literally knocked me out. I could have had a concussion! My black eye isn't completely healed, even now!" 

But Eddie didn't regret it. Not for one second, even though it was stupid, even though it hurt like hell, even though he had missed an entire week of school. If he hadn't intervened, Richie would have been the one to be hurt. And Eddie couldn't allow that to happen. He had to do something, even in his exhausted state. And he did.

They were all laying down, enjoying what was left of the summer before the fall hit them hard. Eddie scrunched his nose disapprovingly when Beverly lit a cigarette, protesting when Richie started to do the same:

"It fucking stinks! Who knows what kind of disease you could get from this stuff? And me too! And everyone else!" 

“Relax, Eddie. It's not going to kill you." Bev was laughing, blowing her smoke as far as she could from Eddie. It didn't stop Eddie from being wary and moving away a little from Bev and Richie. He hated the smell of smoking. He put his hands on his nose, breathing through his mouth, worried about his friends. Smoking could actually kill them. They could get cancer, and they could die. Just like his father died. And he didn't want that to happen. He couldn't bear this thought.

Eddie didn't realize that he was panicking, his breathing getting out of control, when Richie elbowed Beverly and got her to put off her cigarette. She did it, even though she was clearly showing that the whole deal made her feel grumpy. Eddie couldn't help but feel a little bad about it. It was for their own good, but maybe he was bothering them? They were just starting to hang out, if Eddie pushed his luck too far, they would get rid of him…

That's why he stayed put when Richie got closer to him, despite the lingering smell of smoke that he was carrying with him. Eddie didn't want to offend him when he had been nothing but kind to him.

“I’m sorry…”

Richie ruffled Eddie's hair, which prompted him to protest loudly while smiling or laughing at their ordeal.

"It's okay, Eddie Spaghetti. Besides, Mom would have smelled it and made a fuss about it. I'm not ready for a full Tozier speech about the possible dangers of smoking, trust me..." 

"But it's the truth! My dad smoked, and he was ill, and he… and he..." 

Eddie couldn't finish his sentence. He bit his lips nervously, scratching his palm to prevent himself from crying. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. He jumped a bit when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Bill's hand. He came closer to him, giving him a reassuring smile, before changing the subject:

"S-So, we should t-totally hang ou… hang ou… hang out this weekend. At Richie or Bev's house, maybe?" 

"My aunt isn't there for a couple of days, so it shouldn't be a problem," Bev said, smiling widely. "We could watch a horror movie and eat some popcorn. I think they finally have _Child's play_ at the video store." 

"The one with the creepy doll? Sick! I heard it's super gory! Blood and guts and everything!" Richie said, enthusiastically.

Eddie didn't share his excitement. He never watched a horror movie, and he wasn't sure he was ready to handle something "gory" with a "creepy doll". Ben seemed as unsure as he was, but he stopped himself from saying anything when he saw how enthusiastic Bev was.

"I'll p-pass," Bill said with a somber expression. "Just r-remembered I have stuff t-t-to do." 

They all decided not to insist, knowing exactly why Bill didn't want to watch this movie with them. Bringing up Georgie when he wasn't ready to do it himself was probably not the greatest idea. Stan declined as well, offering to Bill to spend this time with him to do some bird-watching if he wanted. Bill seemed to like this plan, way more than the movie night.

"So, that leaves Ben, Bev, Mike, Eddie and your friendly neighborhood Richie Tozier! We should totally do this tomorrow! I'll ask my mom and..." 

"I'm not going. My mom is never going to allow me to do it. Not happening." 

Eddie had interrupted Richie before he got too excited, knowing fully well that he would never be allowed to spend the night outside of his home. He didn't even need an excuse to decline to watch this horror movie, his mom would simply not let him do so. That was it.

Eddie sighed, closing his eyes for a short time. He didn't want to watch this stupid movie, but he really, really wanted to spend more time with his friends. He hated the weekends because he was always so alone, and they were mostly filled with medical appointments. No way his mom would allow him to leave the house on his own, to go meet his friends or, even worse, to watch a horror movie. Not that he wanted to do it, but it still frustrated him to no end.

Why was he so fragile that his mom always needed to keep him at home? Eddie hated that. He wanted to be like his friends. He wanted to be healthy like them. Instead, he was sick and… and he might even be the… the word his mom used against him at their last medical appointment. Retarded.

Eddie shook his head, chasing away this unpleasant word out of his mind. Thoughtful, he admitted to his friends, eyes focused on the blue sky:

"You know, it was the first time I got to hang out with friends, today…" 

For a while, they all remained silent, until Richie said with a cheeky tone, smirking widely:

"I'm glad I got to be your first time, Eds!" 

Eddie needed a second to get Richie's joke. When he did, he blushed more than ever, loudly exclaiming:

"Shut the fuck up, Richie!" 

“Beep Beep Richie!”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at Mike's words, while Richie was pouting and everyone else was either smiling or laughing. Stan was the one who explained the whole thing to him, clearly amused:

"We were looking for a way to shut up Richie and his gross jokes. One time, he was bragging about his so-called sexual exploits..." 

"All of them true, by the way! Not my fault if you can't handle my sex appeal!" 

Another "Beep Beep Richie!" and he shut up, pouting more than ever while Eddie was laughing and Stan was resuming his explanation:

"Just at this moment, there was this car that honked super close to him, and Richie got scared as fuck and finally shut up for a while. That's when we started to use the "Beep Beep Richie" when he's going too far. Don't hesitate to use it, Eddie." 

"Stan, you traitor!" Richie claimed, exaggeratedly offended.

Eddie wasn't sure he'll feel comfortable using it soon. Despite his outbursts, he didn't mind Richie's humor and hearing him talk about anything. His life was usually so silent, so lonely. Richie filled the void that always accompanied him, making him feel like he was a part of this world that surrounded him. Eddie wasn't about to Beep Beep Richie, certainly not.

They all fell into a comfortable silence, talking here and there, mostly enjoying everyone else's presence. Eddie and Richie soon found themselves talking about the latest comics they read, while Mike was sleeping soundly, Bev and Ben chatting and Stan and Bill doing the same. They didn't do anything extraordinary, but Eddie was the happiest he ever been. Too bad he had to go home… Too bad he had to spend the weekend on his own, with his mom…

Eddie felt so heavy when he finally had to get up and get dressed again. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay a bit more with his friends. He wanted… He wanted…

He didn't let them see how upset he was. Not while he said goodbye to them, not while Richie brought him back home. He buried this feeling in his mind, only letting it out when he was alone in his room, his mom too busy with her tv show to check on him.

Eddie was happy, but he had not anticipated that this happiness made him feel so miserable when he had to go back to his routine. When he couldn't be with his friends. When he was forced to miss out on a good time with them because his mom would never allow him to meet them.

When Saturday night came by, Eddie found himself regretting not to be with Richie and the others, watching this stupid horror movie. He would have been scared as fuck, but at least he would have been with his friends. He would not have been alone, terribly alone, like he was right now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, not my finest chapter so far, but to be fair, I'm still a bit sick >_<... Hope I'll feel better for the next chapter!
> 
> Have a nice day!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, chapter 10 ! I can't believe it, it's been such a long time since I wrote so much ! I'm glad I can share that with you, I hope you'll like it !
> 
> TW for self-harm  
> TW for internalized ableism  
> TW for ableism  
> TW for r-word  
> TW for emetophobia

A few weeks passed, and Eddie realized how happy he actually was, getting to share his day to day life with his friends. Them being there for him made it easier to handle school, noise, the medical appointments he still had to go to, and even Henry Bowers and his goons. Eddie felt stronger, able to take on the world and prove to everyone else that he wasn't the weak boy they all thought he was.

Well… He was still sick, taking his medication dutifully, watching with a touch of jealousy as his classmates were running and playing sports during gym. He hated that, being the only teenager to have to sit on the bench, doing his homework, or reading while everyone else was working out. He wanted to scream that he was now able to swim, that he could run too, that there were so many things he could do if only they gave him the chance to do so. But Eddie couldn't, because that would attract too much attention, because they could call his mother and she would freak out.  
  
Eddie could hear it distinctly in his head, the way her voice would start to get shrieky, as she would finally scream that he was too fragile and that he might hurt himself and that she would be left alone. She would ask him if he wanted to end up like his father and Eddie would panic, because he didn't want to die, because he was terrified of this mere thought, because he kept having these nightmares, here and there, about him ending like his father, wired to all kinds of tubes, bald and skinny and weak, dying in a hospital bed.

Eddie started to pull on his hair, tugging at it a bit harshly, while watching the rest of his classmates playing sports. A low humming sound started to roll out from his lips, something that happened when he was starting to get stressed out, something that his mom hated and always screamed at him for. He didn't know why he felt the need to do that, but he did know that he felt even more anxious when he had to stop himself from doing so.

He knew that he shouldn't do that. If they heard him, his classmates would laugh at him and find him _weird_. Maybe Richie would mock him too? Eddie hated the thought. He could hear him laugh and asking him if he was _retarded._ Telling him that he wouldn't hang out with a _retarded_ kid, that made weird sounds and pulled on his hair and hit himself when he was angry and nervous. Eddie would be all alone, just like before…

Eddie got up from his bench, almost running to the bathroom. He didn't see how Richie was looking at him, missed the moment where, as they were playing dodgeball, his face got hit brutally by the ball Belch Huggins threw at him, almost breaking his glasses. No, Eddie didn't see any of that. His breathing was starting to get out of control, his hands tugging more harshly on his hair, the low humming sound getting louder and louder.

It wasn't fair. He wanted to play sports with everyone else! He didn't want to stay on the bench, like the sick kid he was. He didn't want to hear this fucking sound coming out of his throat, he wanted to stop hurting himself like he was doing it right now, overwhelmed, unable to handle the spiral of feelings that were torturing him.

Eddie was happier now that he was with his friends, but it made him realize how he was wasting his life otherwise. Every opportunity that he was missing because he was sick, because he was fragile, because he was going to die like his father and he couldn't do anything to stop that.

 _Bang. Bang. Bang._ Eddie didn't know exactly when he started to bang his head against the wall, but it felt strangely right, how it hurt, and how it was making his bad thoughts go away. _Bang. Bang. Bang._ Eddie laughed and cried and hummed, unable to stop himself, unable to control himself. He didn't hear Richie coming into the bathroom, bloodied nose, just like he didn't hear the way he screamed his name, running frantically to him, putting his hand between Eddie's head and the wall, trying to pry him away from it.

But he did hear the pained cry that Richie let out while Eddie was crushing his fingers and it finally made him stop. He slumped on the ground, eyes glassy, still humming, unable to say a single word. Richie's arms closed around him, tightly as Eddie liked it, and his voice hurt his ears, whispering a terrified "What the fuck, Eds, what the fuck, don't do that, don't ever fucking do that" until his breath ran out.

Eddie couldn't answer. He couldn't say a single thing, just keep on humming while Richie was holding him and rocking him slightly. He was focusing on the throbbing pain at the back of his head, the pain that made him feel _alive. Real._ He laughed once again, and Richie cupped his face in his hands, showing how worried and concerned he was. That's when Eddie noticed the blood on Richie's nose, and his distressed humming got louder, thinking that maybe, maybe he was the one who hurt Richie that way. That it was his fault.

His humming turned into a full-on scream and Eddie finally blacked out.

*

“… tried this new medication, it's probably a side effect, I made a medical appointment..." 

Eddie wasn't sure if he woke up or finally regained his senses. His head was hurting, his thoughts were confused, and he didn't like the rough blanket covering him.

"Ma'am, it's not the first time this kind of stuff happens to Edward, he should see the school thera..." 

“My son is sick, he’s not a retard! How dare you? He's not..." 

Eddie had let out a pained sound, his hands rising slowly to his ears and clutching them as tightly as possible. He heard his mom shushing him, her fingers caressing his hair. She put away his hands, and he let her do it, tired, unable to protest. His eyes finally opened, and he saw his mother and the school nurse, watching him warily. The light hurt him, and he closed his eyes again, wanting to drift into the darkness that he usually hated so much.

His memory returned to him slowly, piece by piece, while the school nurse and his mom kept on arguing about what kind of care would be the best for him. He remembered the envy he felt, watching Richie and the others playing sports while he was excluded from it. He remembered the overwhelming feeling he couldn't control and what it made him do. He felt ashamed and nauseous, to the point that he vomited all over himself when he remembered that Richie was _there_ when it happened. That he hurt him.

Eddie whined, disgusted by the smell and how dirty he felt, unable to clean himself, and his mom, cursing under her breath, took a towel and started to clean him up, while saying in a victorious tone:

“You see? He's sick! I'm telling you, it's this new medication! But don't worry Eddie Bear, Mommy is there for you, Mommy is taking you home." 

He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to see his friends. He wanted to apologize to Richie. Richie, whose fingers had been crushed by him, Richie, whose nose was bleeding because of him… He hurt him. Eddie hurt his friend. The thought paralyzed him, and he zoned out, letting his mom handle everything.

He kept drifting on an off. One second, he was in the school infirmary. The next, he was in his mom's car, letting her buckle his seat-belt. And then he was at home, his mom finally taking off his dirty clothes before driving him to the hospital. He started to cry when he saw the familiar building and couldn't stop himself, no matter how much his mom shushed him and brushed his hair.

The rest was a blur. A bunch of tests that he was too familiar with, checking for concussion, for brain damage, for many things he didn't understand. His mom kept lamenting about the whole situation, how fragile her son was, and how hard it was to handle. Eddie was used to it, but it still hurt. And not in the way him bashing his head against the wall hurt. It wasn't a "good" pain. Not in the slightest.

He kept on crying and whining and even humming for the rest of the battery tests he went through, even though his mom kept trying to shut him up. The medical staff was getting annoyed with him as well, and Eddie felt utterly alone. He hated himself, so much, so fucking much. His thoughts drifted to Richie, and he zoned out once again, closing himself from the rest of the world.

Eddie blinked and, suddenly, he was at home again. His mom had taken off his clothes and was washing him thoroughly in the bathtub, whispering sweet nothing to his ears. That she was taking care of him, that everything would be okay, that she'll always be there for him, for her fragile, perfect son. Eddie felt uneasy, wanting to swat away her hands, wash himself on his own, and tell her that he didn't need her to do that, but the words stayed stuck in his throat, and he didn't move at all.

She started to wash his hair, and Eddie sighed, leaning into the touch. He needed it. He needed to feel loved because he was pretty sure that his friends hated him now. Richie would have told them everything, and they certainly thought that they never wanted to hang out with a freak like him ever again. Eddie whined, his sight blurred by the tears rolling down his cheeks, and his mom shushed him again.

“Stop making these noises, Eddie bear. You know who is making this kind of noise? Crazy people, and you're not crazy, right? You're not crazy. You're just sick. You're sick, and I'm taking care of you. Mommy is there for you." 

Eddie wanted to ask his mom if she would still love him if he was indeed crazy. Because what he did wasn't normal. Because the way he felt about pain, how it felt like a _relief_ wasn't normal. And if Eddie wasn't normal, he was undoubtedly crazy. And his mother didn't want a crazy son. His friends wouldn't want a crazy friend. Eddie wanted to throw up, gagging sharply. Concerned, his mom got him out of the bathtub, caressing his face, saying things that Eddie didn't understand anymore.

He let her dry him off, feeling some sort of relief in the pain she was inflicting him while doing so. God, he was crazy, utterly crazy. He started to tug on his hair, and his mom swatted his hand away harshly, before dressing him up and leading him to his bedroom.

"You're not leaving your bedroom, Eddie bear. Mommy will bring you something to eat, and you'll rest here, okay, sweetie? No school for you for today or tomorrow or the rest of the week. You'll stay here, and you'll rest, and you'll feel better soon enough. Mommy's here for you. Mommy won't let you die like your father did. It's a promise." 

His mom's last words shook Eddie to his core, and he felt a wave of panic engulfing him. Was he dying? Was that why he was acting so weird? Was that because his brain was broken and he was dying? Eddie wanted his mom to stay by his side, to tell him that he was okay, but she left the room, and Eddie was all alone with his fears.

He buried himself under the blanket, wheezing and panicking, his brain repeating again and again that he was dying, that he wouldn't last long, that he was crazy and that it was killing him. He tugged on his hair, scratched his palm, and bit his lips, humming distressingly until he felt too tired even to let out a single sound. He barely realized that his mom was feeding him, something he would never allow her to do otherwise. Eddie felt so, so tired. And, while closing his eyes, he had a distinct feeling that he might never open them again.

*

Eddie missed the routine that he started to have, the chess club, going out to the Barrens, swimming at the quarry. His friends told him that they would soon show him their "super über cool place", as Richie called it, and Eddie couldn't wait to discover it. But none of them went to check on him during the last few days, and Eddie was trying to accept the fact that he didn't have friends anymore. That he was back to being lonely Eddie, the guy that no one, except his mom, could ever love.

He couldn't leave the bed, only allowed to go to the bathroom. His mom kept telling him that he was too sick, that he would faint or fall or throw up. He wanted to say to her that he was feeling fine, but it would be a lie. Eddie didn't feel sick, but he was… he was definitely not okay. He started to pick at his skin even more than before, scratching the skin around his nails, biting his fingers and lips and tongue, hitting himself in the head when he started to think back to this moment when he hurt Richie. He didn't mean to do it, but still. He did. And Richie didn't want to see him anymore.

That's what he thought until he heard a voice all too familiar, coming from the ground floor. He couldn't hear what was said, but it was definitely Maggie Tozier's voice. Soon enough, he heard loud steps coming closer, and his door was opened, Richie throwing himself onto him, arms gripping him tightly.

"Jesus fuck, Eds, I was so fucking worried!" 

His voice cracked, and Eddie swore that Richie was trying to stop himself from crying. Not knowing what to say, Eddie stroke his hair, letting his friend calm down in his arms. A few minutes passed, and Richie was calm enough to stop strangling Eddie, walking to the door to close it before sitting on Eddie's bed.

“Are you okay? We all tried to visit you, but your mother didn't want us to see you. Mom managed to convince her to let me see you. I think they used to know each other? Doesn't matter. Eds, you're… you're okay, right?" 

Eddie didn’t know what to say. He sincerely thought that his friends didn't want to see him ever again. That they didn't even try to come. But they did, and his mom didn't tell him. She kept nodding when he cried and said that he missed his friends. She told him that she was there for him when he said he was alone. She never told him that his friends came. Never.

He was angry. Frustrated. Sad. Confused. Happy to see Richie. Sorry to have thought so badly of him, of them. So many, many feelings bottled up, building up to something he couldn't quite understand. He felt a sharp pain, and he realized he was hurting himself, slapping his forehead. Richie caught his wrist while he was doing so, slowly shaking his head:

“Eds, talk to me, please. I… I can't say that I know what you're going through, but I know that when I get angry like that, there's something I need to tell. When I throw things in my room or when I start screaming and all. My mom is always nagging me to talk to her, and yeah, it's annoying as fuck, but I usually feel better when I can put words into what I'm feeling, and you know… I think you should try it. Pretty please?" 

Richie took a deep breath, releasing Eddie’s wrist. Eddie massaged it, trying as much as he could to turn his feelings into words, sentences that were making some kind of sense. It wasn't easy. Everything was so… complicated. Translating that into words, it wasn't an easy feat. Breathe in, breathe out.

Playing with his blanket, Eddie mumbled, his cheeks red:

“ ...‘wanted to play with y'all...”

“What?”

Richie didn't understand what he said, that was quite clear. Eddie repeated himself, feeling more and more embarrassed as he went on, rambling and monologuing:

"You were all playing sports, and I wanted to play too, but I can't, because I'm too weak, but I'm not too weak to swim, and I don't get it and I felt angry and I was in the bathroom and I started to hurt myself and you were there and I hurt you and I made your nose bleed and I'm sorry, I'm the worst fucking friend, I'm..." 

Eddie started to wheeze and he had to take his inhaler, using it a few times while Richie was watching him, mouth slightly open, an expression on his face that Eddie couldn't quite decipher.

“Eds, you… I… You didn't make my nose bleed. Belch did. He threw the ball at my face and almost broke my glasses. It wasn't you. It wasn't you, I swear." 

Eddie felt a wave of relief engulfing him, and he almost cried on the spot. He managed to stop himself, not wanting to break down once again in front of his friend. Richie caressed his hair, and Eddie leaned into the touch, like he always did. It was way more pleasant than when his mother did it for him. He liked it. He liked it very much.

Eddie let out a tiny yelp when Richie flicked him on the nose, frowning and shaking his head while letting out an angry "What the fuck?" at the sudden aggression.

"I'll flick you on the nose again if you keep saying that you're the worst, Eds. You're my friend, and I won't let you say this nasty stuff about yourself. Understood?" 

"But it's true, I'm the worst, I… Ow! Cut it out, for fuck's sake!" 

Richie shook his head, already preparing himself to flick him on the nose again:

"I'll cut it out if you stop devaluing yourself like that. Eddie, you're a fucking good friend. You saved me from Bowers. You try to be there for me, for us, even when you don't feel fine. You let me be myself even when it bothers you. You're a good friend, you're my good friend, and I won't let you say otherwise. So stop with the bullshit, okay?" 

Eddie was stunned, looking at Richie like he couldn't quite believe him. He nodded silently, and Richie smiled widely:

“Great! Now that you got that, check out what I brought to you!" 

Richie opened his backpack and started to show him the comic books he bought to read with him. Eddie listened dutifully while Richie was rambling enthusiastically, a weak smile on his lips. How could he have ever thought that Richie wasn't his friend anymore? He was there, with him, talking and smiling and gesticulating and doing everything that Eddie liked and hated so much about him.

It was okay. Eddie could handle the rest of the week, having to stay at home, how his mom was overbearing, and cuddling him. He could handle the fucking end of the world if he needed to. Because he had friends. Because he wasn't alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, meltdowns are the worst. I almost got one this week, in public nonetheless. Thank fuck I managed to keep it under control.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it ! I think I'm going to write Maggie's POV next time, I so want to write what Sonia and her were talking about while their sons were together. 
> 
> Don't hesitate to comment ! Bye !


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the chapter 11 ! Thank everyone for you comments and your kudos, it means a lot to me !
> 
> It wasn't easy to write, but I hope you'll like it.
> 
> TW for r-word  
> TW for suggestion of alcoholism  
> TW for emetophobia  
> TW for ableism  
> TW for casual ableism

"We're sorry, Mrs. Tozier. The place has already been filled by someone else. We'll keep your info, though, if we ever need to contact you..." 

It was always the same speech. Maggie could almost recite it word by word, resisting the urge to throw out the phone and scream her anger. Fuck, she just wanted to have a job again, why was it so hard? She had credentials, had the experience, and had everything a boss could dream of, why was she still unemployed after all these years?

Maggie sat on the couch, a long sigh coming out of her throat. Her eyes drifted off towards the fridge, a craving suddenly taking over her. Surely, a beer wouldn't hurt, right? After all, she earned it, after the whole universe kept trying to make her a "stay-at-home" mom, no matter how hard she was trying not to be, right? She was craving the bitter taste, the haze that would take over her after a few cans, everything that would allow her to avoid to feel the heavy weight on her heart…

The phone rang once again, and Maggie let out an audible groan. She was very, very tempted to not answer it. To hear another boss rejecting her application? No, thanks! But still, Maggie made an effort to get up, a strange feeling inside of her pushing her to get to the phone, to answer it.

“Maggie Tozier speaking.”

It wasn't about work. It was Richie. Richie, who, apparently, was in no condition to be at school right now. They needed her to take him home. The craving that she felt had disappeared as soon as the phone call ended, replaced by an endless worry for her son. They weren't very explicit, just assuring her that Richie wasn't hurt or sick, but that he couldn't stay at school. That didn't alleviate her worry, on the contrary.

While driving to school, Maggie kept thinking about all of these times that she received a school call about Richie. Often, it was about a behavior issue. Richie kept bothering everyone else in class, Richie was in a fight, Richie had been disrespectful towards a teacher and so on. She got used to it, because she knew she couldn't do much about it. Richie hated school and, while he was one of the best students, he was definitely not adapted to the school system.

Spending much of his day sitting and listening to something that he had already understood in the first few minutes he heard about it, having to stay silent and calm, absorbing every little piece of information without much of a critical mind? It wasn't Richie. Richie wanted to move, to talk, to think for himself. He didn't want anyone to tell him what he was supposed to do or to think, getting frustrated with the fact that yes, they did expect him to do that, that was school was all about.

But today's call wasn't one of these calls. Richie didn't feel well. Richie couldn't stay at school. Something happened, and Maggie didn't know what. And she was so scared for her son. So anxious that she almost totaled her car, noticing just in time that the traffic lights went red. Fuck. She had to get a grip. Richie needed her. She had to be solid for her son. She had to.

Finally, she arrived at school, running towards Richie's head teacher's office, where she had been told her son was supposed to be. And there he was. Crying, shaking, curled up on a chair, surrounded by the mess he made of his school supplies. Maggie felt her heart break into pieces while she kneeled down, cupping his face in her hands, calling out his name in the hope that he would come out of the headspace he was currently in, wherever he was. To no avail.

"I tried to calm him down and to get him to talk, but I couldn't," His headteacher said, visibly worried. "There was an incident..." 

The man, probably one of the few teachers in Derry's middle and high school that actually cared about their students, finally told her what happened, what they actually knew about the whole thing, and Maggie froze up, her heart beating loudly.

One of his classmates (they didn't name him, but Maggie could easily guess who he was) had an episode in the changing room, and Richie attempted to calm him down, getting himself worked up in the process. He hurt his hand while trying to prevent his classmate from hurting himself and was as distressed as him when the gym teacher finally heard the ruckus and came to see what was happening.

"Richard hit his teacher when she separated him from his friend. I managed to calm her down, and he won't be in trouble, but as soon as he is back to school, he needs to see the school therapist. He also has to attend the next support group meeting. He never missed one, sure, but this one will be mandatory for him." 

Maggie kept nodding, focused on her son, wanting nothing more than to take him home, help him calm down and get him to talk. Yes, he would do all of these things. Richie didn't like to go to the school therapist, but he didn't mind the support group. It allowed him to talk freely about his feelings to other students, knowing that he wouldn't be judged or mocked by his peers. Most of his friends actually attended the meetings, for various reasons.

But now wasn't the time for the meeting. Now, Maggie had to toughen up, forget about her own problems and be there for her son. Because Richie needed her. She gathered his school supplies, wincing at the mess he made. It wasn't his fault. She knew that. But she still couldn't help, but think about how much it will cost them to get it replaced. Went's dentist job paid well enough for their daily life, but between the cost of the meds of her son and her husband, and now this… She really needed to get a job.

Richie kept crying and shaking while they walked to the car, not caring that people were watching him. Maggie flipped off those who were staring, teenagers or adults, her son in no condition to do so himself. Fuck them. Fuck every single one of them. There was a time where Maggie would have been self-conscious, where she would have asked herself what people were thinking about her, about her son, but after all these years, she couldn't care less. Fuck them, fuck their judgmental stares. Richie was all that mattered at the moment. Nothing else.

Richie was getting progressively more agitated in the car, so much that Maggie was actually worried that they might crash. He kept asking about Eddie, saying that he needed to go back, to make sure that he was okay, frantic and manic. Maggie finally snapped when Richie tried to take the wheel, swatting his hand away and screaming with a panicked voice:

"For fuck's sake, Richie, STOP!" 

Maggie never screamed. She was always the cool one, the level-headed one, allowing her son and her husband to find an anchor in her, solid and calm no matter what. But this time, she snapped and felt awfully guilty when Richie recoiled, tears in his eyes, tugging harshly on his seat-belt and rolling up and down the car's window, keeping his hands busy as much as he could.

Finally, they arrived at home. Through the years, Maggie had learned that she couldn't just sit down Richie and hope for him to talk to her right away. He needed to calm down first. He was shaking, twitching, unable to stand still for more than a few seconds. He was in no condition to talk to her.

So she let him run around the house, again and again, and again, until his lungs gave up, until he was too tired to keep running, until his wild energy was finally spent. He was breathing fast, cheeks red, covered in sweat when they finally went inside. He drank the orange juice his mom got for him, crashing down in the couch, still shaking, but less twitchy. His eyes were unfocused, and he looked exhausted.

Maggie held him against her, firmly, lovingly. The worst was passed, she knew it. But now, he needed to talk. He couldn't keep secret what happened to him, whatever it was. It would eat him away.

"I'm sorry I screamed at you, Richie. I was worried." 

"I know, Mom..." 

His voice was croaked, his breathing quick and uneven. He held her too, crushing her a bit, but Maggie didn't say a thing. He needed comfort. And she was there for him. She'll always be there for her son. For her family.

And finally, he talked about what happened. No, more than that. He talked about Eddie, about his mother, everything that he didn't tell his mom already. And Maggie felt her heart aching for her son, for his friend. She caressed his hair while Richie said, with a bit of uncertainty in his voice:

"I… I feel he's like me, you know? I mean… Not like me, like me, but… like me. You see? And… And I want to be there for him, but I don't know what to do." 

Maggie understood. She had the same feeling. Eddie Kaspbrak was no ordinary teenager, and he needed help. Support. Something that, visibly, wasn't provided to him for now. The kind of help that Richie was getting from his parents, from his support group, his doctor, and even his friends. He needed to be understood, guided, supported. And he wasn't and didn't know how to handle all of that.

And Richie felt helpless, wanting nothing more than to make his friend happy, forgetting himself in the process. Maggie was there to remind him that he needed to take care of himself. To cut himself some slack.

"For now, you need to rest and to be kinder to yourself, Richie. You did well enough, you can't do anything else right now. I mean, yes, there's actually something you can do." 

Richie looked at his mother, an eyebrow raised, curious. She ruffled his hair, a mischievous smile on her face:

"You could go take a shower, you stink more than a bunch of skunks." 

Richie let out a weak laugh, getting closer to his mom with the same smile that she offered him:

"Or I could keep hugging you until you stink as much as I do and we'll embalm the house, how about that?" 

Maggie rolled her eyes and flicked him on the nose, laughing at the exaggerated "ow" Richie let out. While her son was taking a shower, Maggie kept thinking about the whole situation. She didn't know what to do, how to help. None of what she could think about was a satisfying solution.

She couldn't just prevent Richie from seeing Eddie, no matter how much their friendship was taking a toll on him. Richie would just disobey her, and he wouldn't talk to her about it anymore. Besides, it wasn't Eddie's fault that everything was so complicated. He seemed like a nice boy, just riddled with issues that he was unable to deal with appropriately. He wasn't a delinquent or anything like that, he was only in a very, very bad situation and clearly needed the help.

But Richie was human, and there was just so much he could do before breaking down. Maggie felt powerless. She was scared that her son might exhaust himself over the whole thing and that Eddie might drag him down. She needed to help them both. That's what she needed to do. But would she be strong enough to do so? She had no idea.

When Richie came back, Maggie spent all of her time with him, watching his favorite movies, allowing him to comment and do his voices as much as he wanted, eating snacks with him, talking about everything that would come up to his mind. Mostly, it was about Eddie. He intended to go see him as soon as possible, to make sure that he was okay. He actually argued with his mom to go see him right now, but he was in no state to help him and be there for him, and he relented, pouting a bit over it.

Wentworth came back from his work and Maggie informed him about what happened. Her husband was visibly worried, and he pulled out Richie in his room for a talk, something that Maggie wasn't a part of. She kept herself busy to not give in to the temptation to spy on them, frustrated but understanding that they needed their time together. She helped as much as she could, but Went understood Richie in a way she never could.

Long ago, she wished that her son and her husband could be _normal_ , a word she learned to hate and reject as much as possible, so that she could understand them and help them deal with their issues. But Maggie knew better now. She loved them like they were and didn't want them to be different. If anything, she wished _she_ was like them to finally fully get what they were going through. But she wasn't, and all she could do was to be there and accept them and love them, as much as she could.

*

Richie went back to school the next day, even though Maggie offered him to stay at home and get some rest. He was hoping to see his friends, maybe Eddie (even though he guessed that his mom made him stay at home for the rest of the week), and Maggie didn't have the heart to force him to stay with her.

She kept herself busy, resisting as much as she could to the _craving_ , finally giving up in the afternoon, drinking too much, too many beer bottles. She didn't really know why she started to drink like that. She began after losing her job, and it became harder to get herself to stop. She knew that she had some issues, but most of the time, she pushed back the thought. Her family needed her, and she had to be reliable. If drinking here and there helped her to do so, then so be it.

Maggie was throwing up in the bathroom when Richie came back from school, frustrated and angry. He was about to complain and let out everything that he felt when he witnessed his mom's condition and considerably calmed down. He held her hair for her, like he did many times before, caressing her back and shoulders, and shushing her when she apologized to him. She felt pathetic. Awful. She hated that he saw her like that and it wasn't the first time it happened. But she didn't know what to do. Drinking felt helpful for her, until it wasn't anymore. Until she was nothing more than pain and shame.

Richie took care of the discarded bottles, of the mess she made. He brewed her an infusion, shaking his head when she apologized weakly to him, holding her against him in a comforting manner. She didn't realize how much her son grew up, physically or mentally. He was becoming an adult, a thought that made her proud and sad at the same time. She needed to be stronger. To allow him to keep being a kid while he still could.

She pushed him to talk, and he finally did, confessing that Eddie wasn't at school and that he wasn't able to see him. That Sonia Kaspbrak had forbidden him to enter, claiming that Eddie was too tired to see anyone.

"She didn't say it clearly, but she seemed to think that what happened to Eddie is my fault, that I'm not good for him. Mom… Am I… Do you… ?" 

Maggie finally took back her role as a caring mother, shaking her head, cupping her son's face in her hands and looking at him straight in the eyes:

“You’re not at fault, Richie. Eddie is… Eddie has a lot of issues, and you're helping him as much as you can. This is not on you, what Eddie is going through. You understand?" 

Richie nodded and he sniffled, on the verge of tears. Maggie felt angry towards Sonia, wanting nothing more than to slap this excuse of a mother for how bad she made her son feel. But it wouldn't help. She knew that. She needed to stay calm and to be clever about the whole thing.

A few days passed and neither Richie nor his friends could see Eddie. That's when Maggie finally decided to call Sonia, to rekindle with her like she promised she would. Their talk on the phone lasted way too long for Maggie's nerves, but she managed to crack Sonia's shell and to get her to agree to a meet and greet, while their sons would see each other again.

Richie was overly excited in the car, talking and talking and talking, rolling up and down his window, throwing his gigantic limbs all around. Maggie actually felt relieved when they arrived at Sonia's house, Richie running up to the door. She managed to stop him just in time, getting him to calm down as much as she could, with a few breathing techniques and a stress ball to fidget with.

Then she finally knocked at the door, heart beating fast, battling with the burning desire to run away and never see Sonia again. But there she was, Sonia Kaspbrak. After all these years, she was still the same, no doubt about it. Maggie could see it in her demeanor, the way she would look at her, at her son, with a hint of contempt clearly visible. Calm. Maggie needed to stay calm.

“Hello, Sonia! It's been a while! I brought up some pastries that we could share together, I hope you'll like them." 

Sonia didn't thank her, not that Maggie was expecting her to do so. She let Richie go to Eddie's room, while she was saying with a disgustingly sweet smile on her lips:

"I'm surprised you didn't bring a bottle, Mags. After all, it's never too early for a drink, right?" 

Ouch. Maggie absorbed the hit as much as she could, focusing on her breathing and the fact that Sonia used the pet name she used to have for her, many years ago. Okay, that was good. A good omen. If Sonia wanted her around, she would allow Richie to hang out with her son as well, and that's what Maggie was trying to achieve. Focus on that, Maggie. Focus on that.

“I remembered your favorite pastries. I thought we could eat them with a nice cup of tea, talk a bit about what happened in our lives. It's been a while." 

"Last time I saw you, you were fired, and I wasn't. Thank god Wentworth has a steady job and can take care of your son and you, Mags. We can't all rely on our husband to provide for our family, after all." 

Sonia was glowing, visibly happy to throw at Maggie vicious blows after vicious blows. That was Sonia Kaspbrak. She remembered a time where Maggie was popular, and she wasn't, and she was gloating over her troubles, feeling mighty and superior, as if everything was finally in order.

Maggie bit her tongue, keeping her anger in check, answering with a polite tone:

“Went helped a lot, it’s true. I'm thankful I can rely on him." 

She didn't mean anything by that, but she saw that Sonia felt attacked. Cornered. As if Maggie just reminded her that her husband was dead and that she was on her own. All alone. Maggie changed the subject as quickly as she could, not wanting to antagonize Sonia any further:

“I hope Eddie is okay. Richie was very worried about him, after what happened..." 

Bingo. That's exactly what Maggie had to say to get Sonia to talk and complain and look for comfort and admiration from her:

"My Eddie bear is so fragile, you have no idea! He had to take a new treatment for his illness, and it had terrible side effects. The doctors aren't helping, and I don't know what to do to make him better. He's such a sweet boy, you know? Thankfully, he can rely on his mother. Life made him so weak and precious, I have to be there for him at all times." 

Maggie wanted to throw up at her words, but she forced a smile on her lips, hiding her discomfort behind her cup of tea. The Eddie that she knew through what Richie told her didn't seem that fragile or precious. He swore like a sailor, was ready to throw a fight against anyone that might insult him or threaten his friends and he was stronger than Sonia or even himself might think.

Sure, he wasn't in peak condition when Maggie actually met him, far from it. She remembered how he leaned in her touch, his panic attack, how exhausted he was. And yet, he was kind, polite, so different from Sonia and what Maggie remembered of her. Maggie couldn't begin to comprehend how someone like Sonia could give birth to a nice kid like Eddie…

"It must be hard for you. Richie told me he came here to bring Eddie his homework quite a few times since the school year began. I know I haven't been there at all in recent years..." 

And Sonia neither, but Maggie knew better than to tell her that right away.

“… but you know you can count on me if you need to, right? Mothers should stick together. Eddie is a very sweet boy, and I wouldn't mind taking him to his appointments or taking care of him while you're working so hard for him." 

Sonia was smiling and gloating more and more, and Maggie knew that she was winning. She hated that she had to flatter her like that and straight-up lie, but she had no choice in the matter. She would curse and break some plates later, once Sonia wouldn't be able to see her. Eating one of her pastries with joy (Maggie was so glad she was able to remember what Sonia liked. Why her brain kept that info, she could only wonder…), she told Maggie with a condescending tone:

"That's so nice of you! It's true that, jobless like you are, you haven't much to do during the day. Taking care of Eddie would keep you busy for a while. But my Eddie bear is fragile, as you know, and there are many things he can't do, and he has many allergies and..." 

Sonia started to list every issue that Eddie supposedly had, and Maggie couldn't hide the shock she felt. She wasn't as knowledgeable about health as Went was, but she was sure that no one could actually get through life with that many issues, some of which clashed with the others. Maggie was suspicious about the whole deal, and she didn't like the feeling that was growing inside of her.

Not once, Sonia mentioned possible mental health issues or neurodevelopmental disorder, when that was the thing that striked Maggie the most when she heard Sonia talk about him all of these years before, when she listened to what Richie was telling her about his friend and when she finally met him. Not once.

“… and this incompetent doctor actually tried to tell me that my dear son is _retarded_ , can you imagine? My Eddie bear! As if he could be like any of those retarded kids we can see on tv, really!" 

Maggie choked on her tea when she heard the r-word. She hated it so much. It was often used against her son, against her husband, and no matter how much they heard it, it always hurt like hell. She knew it. And she wanted to fight everyone who would use this word against anyone else. She fought the urge to slap Sonia, but couldn't agree to what she was saying. She could flatter her and lie to her, but that… That was too much. She changed the subject as quickly as she could, battling up her nausea:

"Richie is always talking about Eddie. Your son has a great influence on him, he's working a lot more at school now, and he's attending the chess club diligently. It's a good thing for him." 

The “chess club”, yes… Maggie knew all about this lie that her son and his friends crafted to see Eddie after school. She already had a bad feeling about it, but after talking with Sonia for a while, the bad feeling kept growing up, taking over her heart and her soul. She knew that she couldn't give up on Eddie. That she had to help him in some way. Sonia was toxic for him, in ways she couldn't even begin to imagine.

"Well, Eddie has a good role model, that's what makes him such a nice boy. Thank god he can rely on his mother, right?" 

Too much. It was too much. Maggie needed an out, right now. She hid her discomfort as much as she could, plastering a fake smile on her lips:

"I'm sorry I have to end this so abruptly, but I just remembered that Richie has a medical appointment, and I wouldn't want him to be late."  
  
It was another lie, but she needed to leave, and she doubted Sonia would be suspicious about it.

“It’s no problem, Mags! Our sons' health is what's most important, after all. I'll go get Richard." 

While Sonia was climbing up the stairs, Maggie fought the urge to cry and scream. She needed to stay strong. Just a bit longer. Just a tiny bit longer. Richie seemed a bit frustrated when he came down, seemingly wanting to stay with Eddie a bit longer, but he didn't protest. Maggie shook Sonia's hand and agreed to another meeting next weekend. She wanted nothing to do with Sonia, but she knew it was the only way to allow Richie to see his friend. She needed to be tough. She had to be, for Richie.

When they climbed up in the car, driving away from the Kaspbrak house, Maggie kept replaying Sonia's words in her head.

_Eddie has a good role model, that’s what makes him such a nice boy. Thank god he can rely on his mother, right ?_

“Mom, are you okay?”

Maggie turned her head towards Richie, who was visibly concerned about her. He shouldn't be. Maggie was his mom. She was there for him, he wasn't supposed to be there for her. As he was when she drank too much, when she threw up and cried in the bathroom…

_Thank god he can rely on his mother, right ?_

Maggie couldn't stop the tears that were rolling on her cheeks, and she let out a frustrated "FUCK!" while slamming her hands on the wheel. Richie jumped at the sight, but he didn't comment on it. He put his hand on her shoulder and left it there, comforting, loving, not taking it away until they finally came home.

_Thank god he can rely on his mother, right ?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I wanted to throw up while writing Sonia's dialog. She's the worst. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, I'm always nervous when I'm trying to write from a neurotypical's POV. 
> 
> Don't hesitate to comment and leave kudos! See you soon!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone ! Thank you for your kudos and your input! Honestly, I thought I wouldn't manage to write this chapter this week, because I'm awfully anxious about what's going to happen Monday and if I'm even going to be able to go to work, but writing helped me calm my nerves, so that's good!
> 
> Hope you'll like it! Today's POV is shifting between Eddie and Richie.
> 
> TW for drugs  
> TW for r-word  
> TW for self-harm  
> TW for casual ableism  
> TW for internalized ableism

Eddie didn't like the way his mother treated him most of the time. How she would remind him again and again that he was fragile, treating him like a helpless child, not allowing him to do any kind of "dangerous" activity, even when he was pretty sure that there was no real risk involved. He didn't say anything to her about it, because she was his mother and he wasn't supposed to talk back to her. And besides, even if he didn't like it, that didn't mean that she wasn't in the right. Probably. Eddie was getting more and more confused about the way she treated him and how he felt about it, now that he had friends and got to experiment the world a bit more.

He appreciated his friends because they didn't treat him that way. They convinced him to go swimming at the quarry, let him climb on their bikes with them (mostly Richie, because Eddie was used to his touch and it was more reassuring to him) and they always invited him to take part in what they were planning to do, not wondering if it was bad for his health or if his mother would agree to the whole thing.

But since Eddie came back to school, after his panic attack and how he hurt himself, he couldn't help but notice how cautious Richie had been around him. He kept asking him how he was doing, watching him when he thought Eddie wouldn't notice it, keeping his fidgeting to a minimum in the classroom, when Eddie could see that it was stressing him out. He kept staring at him when Eddie had to take his meds, making him more and more nervous each time he did so.

He stopped him multiple times from leaving the classroom first, scanning the area before letting him know that neither Henry Bowers nor his friends were nearby, giving him the thumbs up. Eddie started to feel smothered by Richie, and he didn't like it at all. He tried to remain calm, because he was scared that he might lose him if he dared to say something, because he didn't want to alienate his other friends, who might think that Eddie was exaggerating, that Richie was in the right for treating him like that.

When he was at home, his mother treated him like a child. And now, when he was at school, Richie did the exact same thing. Despite how difficult it could be, Eddie liked to go to school because he felt like a teenager there and not some kind of fragile doll that had to be protected from everything. And he didn't have that anymore.

Eddie couldn't bear it much longer. He finally cracked when an idiot tried to scare him off and screamed right next to him, Richie immediately putting his hands on Eddie's ears to muffle the sound. He felt ridiculous and stupid, and he could hear the guy snickering when Richie took away his hands, giving the bully a nasty look. Eddie heard the student mocking them, calling them names, and he was getting tired. Tired and angry.

Since he came back, people had not been kind to him. They threw the r-word at his face, told him that he belonged in a mental asylum, slapping him in the head while pretending that they were "doing him a favor". Richie received the same crap, but while he defended Eddie every time he was insulted, he didn't do the same for himself. As if he was resigned. As if he thought they were right to call him names because he was scared and cried when Eddie hurt himself.

And Eddie was getting pissed off. Without thinking it through, he pushed Richie away, almost making him fall in the process, before screaming at him furiously :

"You're not my fucking mother, Richie! Fuck you!" 

And he stormed off, running to the bathroom, locking himself in a stall. He hit and kicked the walls angrily, letting out a furious yell. He didn't care if anyone heard him, if they called the teachers or not. He was just so… so angry! And he couldn't calm himself down, no matter how much he tried to do so. He finally got exhausted, sliding against the wall, curling up on the floor. He harshly tugged his hair, hitting the back of his head against the wall in an angry move, before the tears finally rolled on his cheeks.

“Eddie, you’re there?”

Eddie raised his eyebrow, shocked to hear Beverly's voice coming from the other side of the door. The surprise was enough to snap him out of his state, and he managed to get up, opening the door, staring at her like he just saw a ghost:

"It's the boys' bathroom, you know..." he said, wiping his face as much as he could, hoping that she didn't notice that he cried.

"I don't care. It's where my friend is, and I'm not letting a stupid sign on a door stopping me from reaching out to him." 

Eddie had a weak smile at Beverly's words, having a hard time believing that yes, he was their friend, and yes, they actually used that word to talk about him. It was… pleasant.

"I thought that you would be angry with me. Because I yelled at Richie and…" 

"You can beep beep him, you know, if he gets too much. He means well, but he can be a handful sometimes. We all are." 

Someone entered the bathroom, saw Beverly, and immediately got out. She laughed at the sight, but Eddie got nervous and mumbled, eyes on the floor:

"We should probably get out of here. It's not… it's not a very good place to talk, I think." 

"Sure thing, bud. Follow me." 

And Eddie did, watching Beverly's back while she led him to one of her spots in the school. She pulled out a cigarette, about to light it up before remembering Eddie's reaction the last time she did so. She shrugged and asked, clearly hoping that he would let her smoke:

“Do you mind if… ?”

Eddie was so relieved that she actually asked him and didn't just put it away immediately that he agreed, even though he hated the smell and the sight of a cigarette and was afraid they would get in trouble. She smiled, thanked him, and lit it up, sighing happily. The smell made him realize that she wasn't actually smoking a cigarette, but something that wasn't legal at all and his eyes widened, shocked by the idea. Beverly laughed:

"What? Don't look at me like that, it's not like I'm plunging a needle right into my vein. It's just a bit of Mary-Jane, relax. Don't stay too close if you don't want to breathe it in, though." 

Eddie took a step back, wrinkling his nose. Beverly didn't care at all about the dangers she was putting herself through. Usually, he would go on a rant and try to persuade her to stop. But he was still pissed off at Richie (and in some way at his mother) for how they treated him, and he didn't have it in him to convince her to stop. On the contrary, he was admiring her, her recklessness, her bravery. She looked at death in the eyes, and she flipped her off. At least, that's how Eddie saw her.

"Richie is a wreck. I told him to stay away from you for a bit. Ben, Bill, and Stan are keeping him in check and making sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Which is quite a feat from them, to be fair." 

Beverly was harsh in her words, but there was something akin to tenderness in her voice. Eddie had the feeling that she was towering over life and its torments, having experienced so much more than he ever did. The fact that he was slightly smaller than her (and still hoping for a growth spurt) intimidated him even more. He kinda felt ridiculous next to her, like a fragile twig about to burn in the biggest fire he could think of.

Eddie bit his lips, thinking about Richie. He didn't mean to be so violent towards him, but… but he didn't want him to treat him that way. That's why he liked him in the first place, because Richie just saw in him a friend and not a fragile doll. If he started to be cautious around him as his mother… Eddie couldn't bear the thought.

"No one is mad at you, bud. Not even Richie. If anything, he's angry at himself. He did the exact same thing when… when Georgie died." 

Her eyes got somber, while she smoked her joint with a tense expression on her face. Eddie wasn't close to them when it happened, but he heard about it. His mom didn't let him go to the funeral, but when he briefly crossed Bill's path this summer, bumping clumsily into him, he saw how wrecked he was, and he remembered how he couldn't even utter the "Sorry" that he tried to say to him.

Eddie didn't know how to deal with this kind of thing. It made him feel so bad that he had a hard time pulling himself out of his feelings and thoughts when it wasn't even about him. He was really selfish, that's what he thought…

Beverly sighed once again, but it was heavier this time.

"He kept harassing Bill, finishing every single one of his sentences for him, insisting to accompany him everywhere he went. He kept saying to Bill that he needed to eat more, pulled him along to the arcade room, or went to his home even when Bill made clear that he wanted to be left alone. It got to the point where they finally fought, and we had to separate them. They didn't talk to each other for many days, it was so fucking unbearable." 

She was trembling slightly. The whole thing was visibly hard for her, even though she kept her tone harsh and didn't let her face reflect any kind of emotion other than frustration. Eddie didn't know what to say or do, clumsily putting a hand on her shoulder, before taking it away quickly. She looked at him curiously, before offering him a smile.

"Anyway, Mike invited them to his farm for a few days. They worked together, and they were too exhausted to even think about fighting. They talked and talked, and they finally reconciled. Richie had to learn to care about Bill in a way that wasn't so suffocating, which wasn't an easy feat. We had to beep beep him a few times before he finally got the hang of it. He means well, but he can be fucking annoying sometimes…" 

Eddie nodded slightly, feeling bad that he even thought that about his friend. But it was true. He was greatly annoyed by Richie's behavior and how he treated him these last few days. He wasn't his mother, he was his friend, and he had no right to look at him like a fucking doll that needed to be taken care of at all cost!

The thought made him angry again, an anger that wouldn't die down, no matter how much he tried to master it. His eyes wandered towards Beverly's joint, and before he even had the time to think it through, he held out his hand to her, asking impulsively:

"You know what? Gimme that. I want to try it." 

Beverly choked on her joint, surprised and hilarious at the same time.

"Seriously, dude? It's fucking marijuana. I put my lips on it. Isn't it, like, the worst fucking thing for you? Imagine how many bacteria there are on my joint… And your asthma, isn't that…?" 

"I don't care. If I can swim and not die, I can smoke and feel perfectly fine. Do I have to give you money or something?" 

Beverly laughed once again, before handing him the joint:

"Nah, I let you have it for free this time, bud. Take your time." 

She instructed him on how to smoke, but he still coughed harshly and felt his lungs and his throat burning awfully. But then, he felt… lighter. Lighter than he ever was. He couldn't stop giggling, and he had a hard time thinking, having to focus very hard to understand what was going on his brain.

He let Beverly took his hand, even though he usually hated it when people touched him without asking him first, following her, laughing without knowing why when she threw away what was left of the joint as far as she could. They found themselves next to their friends quite soon, and Eddie kept giggling, muffling it behind his free hand, not caring in the slightest that everyone was looking at him like he grew a second head. Beverly herself was laughing at his reaction, seemingly satisfied with what she had managed to do.

Stan was the first to react, Richie sniffling too much to be able to talk right away:

“Bev… Don't tell me that you made him smoke on your joint, please." 

"What? He asked me to! What was I supposed to do?" 

"Oh, well, jeez, I don't know, not smoke pot in fucking school in the first place, maybe?" 

The bell rang, and Eddie clutched his ears, before pointing his finger at Richie, saying while slurring slightly:

"Oh, Richie, what big eyes you've got! And they're all puffy and red!" 

He laughed as if he just said the most hilarious thing ever and they all looked at each other, before letting out a "We're fucked..." almost in perfect sync.

*

Richie was the one who had to keep Eddie in check for what was left of the afternoon. He did his best to shush him and stop him from saying stupid things out loud, which left him exhausted. When the class was over, Eddie was still high, and Richie led him out of the school, meeting with the other Losers to figure out what they were supposed to do.

They definitely couldn't bring him back to his mother like this. Richie couldn't even begin to imagine what Sonia Kaspbrak might do if she knew her son had been smoking pot. He'd probably end up tied up in her cave, while she would make sure that Eddie would never leave her house again. He wasn't even sure that his imagination was exaggerating, to be honest...

Ben was the one who suggested going to the clubhouse, and none of them could come up with a better plan. Bill went to look for Mike, probably needing his calming presence to stay relaxed, while the rest went to the clubhouse. Richie took Eddie on his bike, ensuring that he was properly installed and that he wouldn't fall. He stopped him just in time when Eddie saw Henry Bowers a bit further and started to talk too loud and mention his mullet. Richie had to muffle him, wincing when Eddie bit him, but thankfully, Bowers had his eyes set on his father, who went looking for him after he got in trouble for something unrelated to them all, and he didn't hear him at all.

During the whole trip, Eddie kept singing, words stringed together without much logic, and Beverly did the same in canon, very amused by the entire thing, even though she wasn't high like he was, used to smoking. Meanwhile, Richie did his best to make sure that Eddie wouldn't fall and kept thinking back to their earlier fight.

He felt guilty, falling again into the same patterns, treating Eddie like he treated Bill. He had been so scared, seeing him hurt himself like that, but Richie was in the wrong, and he knew it. He wanted to apologize to Eddie, disgusted that he might have reminded him of his mother in any way, but Eddie was in no condition to receive or reject his apology properly, and Richie had to be patient. He hoped Eddie would keep being pleasantly high, because he never smoked before and Richie knew very well how quickly the tables could turn.

He had seen Beverly cry and scream that her father was going to find her, and he had given himself a few scares the first time he smoked, before he kind of managed to get a handle on the whole thing. It helped with his anxiety, his hyperactivity, and the thoughts that he couldn't share with anyone, not even his friends. Certainly not his friends.

When they arrived, he helped Eddie to go down the ladder, before setting him up in the hammock. He had a brief smile while Eddie kept babbling sweet nothing, his hands moving happily, a content and relaxed expression on his face. As far as he knew, Richie never saw Eddie with this kind of expression. He was always tense in some way, always wary. That he had to smoke to finally let out a bit of the pressure he was usually experiencing made Richie sad in a way that he couldn't even start to comprehend.

Allowing himself to caress Eddie's hair, he turned his face towards Beverly, asking angrily:

"Why the fuck did you let him smoke? He's fucking asthmatic, he could have choked and fucking die! What were you thinking?" 

“Shut up, Rich! He's fifteen, he can make his own choices! I don't recall you listening to his fucking rant when you went swimming with him! He could have died as well, you don't know!" 

Richie got up, leaving Eddie behind him, getting closer to Beverly in an angry walk. He stopped himself when he saw her flinch reflexively, feeling his heart getting heavier behind his rib-cage while Ben got closer to her as well, as if Richie could really hit her. She was his friend. He would never do that.

But he was still pissed off. He forced himself to breathe slowly, touching his glasses nervously, before managing to say:

"Okay, okay… What happened? Did you offer him to smoke?" 

She rolled her eyes at his question:

"No, obviously! I even asked him if he was okay with me smoking, and he said he was. He was the one who asked. What was I supposed to say, for fuck's sake? "No, Eddie sweetie, you can't, you know you have fragile lungs and all, right?" that's what you wanted me to say? I'm not his fucking mother, and you're not either. Can you start to fucking calm down and treat him like you treat us all, maybe? What's up with the whole "Oh, I have to put my hands on your ears 'cause it's too noisy for you" shtick?" 

Richie wanted to retort something, but he suddenly heard a sob coming from the hammock, and he forgot all about what he was supposed to say. He ran to Eddie's side, shushing him and caressing his hair:

"It's okay, it's okay, we're not screaming anymore. We're not mad, okay?" 

Eddie hiccuped and sobbed again and Richie felt something harsh tugging at his heart. He hated to see him like that. And he knew that it was his fault, in some way. If he hadn't treated him like he had the last few days, Eddie wouldn't have felt the need to prove that he wasn't so fragile… He shouldn't have to prove that to Richie. Richie knew it, he clearly knew that his friend was stronger than he thought, than anyone else thought. He had been so fucking stupid…

“Mommy… Mommy's going to be mad… I'm gonna die like Daddy 'cause I smoked and… and..." 

Richie, horrified by the idea, immediately hugged Eddie tightly, not caring that his friends could see him, not caring about what they would think, shaking his head:

"No, no, no, it's okay, Eds. Your mom's never going to know, and you'll be perfectly fine in a couple of hours, I swear. I fucking swear." 

Richie wanted to cry, but he knew that it would agitate Eddie even further and it would be awful for him and everyone else. He did his best to stay calm, drawing a forced smile on his lips:

"Stay in the hammock and rest, okay, Eddie Spaghetti? You're lucky, your first trip here, and you already have hammock privileges. I didn't get to try it until my second visit. Lucky bastard..." 

Richie was looking forward to show Eddie this place. He already imagined him ranting about security rules, and how careful they had to be, what kind of bugs and spiders could be crawling around. He would have probably put one of Stan's shower caps immediately, as they all did right now, Richie excepted. He couldn't care less about spiders when Eddie was in the worst of his high.

He was crying and calling his mommy, begging her to forgive him, his voice getting juvenile, as if he was regressing because of the terror he was experiencing. Beverly didn't look amused at all anymore, a guilty expression on her face. When Mike and Bill finally arrived, Mike immediately put on Eddie the soft blanket he took for him, while Bill went to Beverly and talked softly to her, saying stuff that Richie couldn't understand. Not like he cared at this moment, trying to calm down Eddie, who was more and more incoherent as time went on.

He was absolutely sure that Eddie would never have said any of the things he said, if he were in the right state of mind. He begged his mom to let him wash on his own, repeating again and again that he was retarded and that he was going to be locked up. He begged his dad to forgive him, crying that he was dead because of him and that one day, his mom would die because of him too.

Slowly, he progressively managed to calm down in Richie's arms, snorting and sniffling, feeling exhausted. Richie himself was awfully tired, relieved that Eddie was coming back to his usual self.

“Feeling better, Eds?”

He laughed a bit when Eddie harshly said that he didn't want to be called Eds. Richie stopped hugging him, finally realizing how long he held him in his arms, his heartbeat getting faster at the thought. He chased away the feeling as much as he could, focusing on his friend. Taking a deep breath, he managed to say, his cheeks awfully red:

"I'm sorry. I've been unbearable for the last few days. I should have realized it on my own. You were right to scream at me and push me off. And, Bev..." 

He turned his head towards her friend, feeling terribly guilty:

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that." 

She shrugged, offering him a peaceful smile:

"It's okay, Richie. I'm used to your antics by now. Besides, Stan was right, I guess I shouldn't have smoked in school in the first place." 

Stan rolled his eyes at her sentence:

"Yeah, no kidding. What if you were caught?" 

She shrugged again, and he sighed loudly, causing the rest of them to smile and/or laugh at the sight.

Eddie straightened up, sitting in the hammock, clutching the blanket around him. It was so soft, he loved it… He looked at Richie and at everyone else and mumbled shamefully:

"I'm sorry. I was stupid. I just wanted to… to…" 

He wasn't even sure. To prove to himself something. To prove to Richie something. Maybe even to his mother, even though he was hoping she would absolutely never learn about the whole thing. He grimaced at the idea. His thoughts were still a bit confused. He was having a hard time recalling exactly what he said and cried about, but he knew he did talk about her to his friends and he didn't like that.

It was… private. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that they weren't supposed to know how his mother was treating him. He was quite ashamed, to be honest. Ashamed that he needed to be treated so carefully…

"It's fine, Eds, don't apologize. I was the one who acted stupidly in the first place." Richie assured him, ruffling his hair. Eddie groaned at the gesture and did his best to straighten his hair that Richie carelessly messed up. "Besides, we got to hear you sing, and that was something. Right, guys?" 

They all laughed at the thought, and Eddie felt redder than ever. But they weren't mocking him, he knew that. He knew that very well.

"Beep beep me next time I start to bother you. After all, you were right. I'm not your fucking mother. On the other hand, I really am fucking your moth..." 

Richie had to interrupt himself when Eddie threw him the nearest object he could find at his face, which was an old comic book. He ducked at the last instant, saving his glasses from the unexpected meeting, laughing while Eddie was pouting, clutching the blanket around him.

Not thinking it through, Richie pinched his cheeks, claiming loudly and happily:

“Cute, cute, cute!”

Eddie swatted his hand away, and he laughed some more, as the others did. But he wasn't kidding. At this moment, he really thought that Eddie was cute… And he was so relieved that he accepted his apology. He couldn't imagine what it would be like, spending the rest of the year without him as his friend. Yes, his friend...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember the first and only time I smoked. I only took one puff, but I coughed for at least thirty minutes and I vaguely remember doing a cartwheel in my parents' house's backyard? Never tried the stuff after that.
> 
> So, I hope I'm fairly close to reality. I tried to draw inspiration from people I saw at various parties plus searches on google. I think that with his whole trauma, Eddie is far more susceptible to experience the harsher side effects of smoking pot. 
> 
> If anyone is wondering, I'm in no way approving or condemning smoking, whether it's pot or tobacco. I think that, as long as you don't impose it to everyone else around you, I don't have the authority to say anything on the matter. And that's all I'm going to say about it xD.
> 
> As always, don't hesitate to comment and all! To be honest with you, I could use your words to keep the anxiety away, I spent the night trying to keep away an upcoming panic attack. 
> 
> Have a good day!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you're doing fine, despite the confinement and all. 
> 
> Here's a new chapter, I hope you'll like it!
> 
> Here are the trigger warnings, as usual.
> 
> TW for r-word  
> TW for ableism  
> TW for internalized ableism  
> TW for self-harm

Life went back to the kind of standard that Eddie was getting used to, after he got angry at Richie for his overbearing behavior, after he… he actually smoked pot for the first time in his life. Eddie still had trouble believing that he did that. It was wrong in so many ways, he couldn’t even bear to think about it. What if he had an asthma attack? What if his mom smelled it on him, on his clothes, what would have happened?

For sure, she would have prevented him from seeing his friends ever again. Maybe she would have used it as a reason to take him out of school definitely, to keep an eye on him, make sure that no “bad person” could ever have a bad influence on her perfect, fragile son. Eddie could only shiver at the thought. If his mom took him out of school, he wouldn’t have anything else than her in his life. No friends. Nothing.

He’d even throw himself into Bowers and his gang’s clutches if it meant that he could escape this fate. What were bruises and a black eye and even a knife’s cold feeling against his skin, if it meant that he could still be free? Eddie was ready to handle anything, if only God, or whatever he was supposed to believe in, agreed to let him keep his newfound freedom and happiness for the rest of his life.

Destiny was thankfully merciful, since his mom didn’t seem to notice at all the crime he committed. Eddie could only thank his friends for taking care of the smell and all, helping him to hide his stupid and impulsive action. He couldn’t even properly remember what happened. Slowly, his memory of this moment was getting thinner and thinner, and he could only remember giggling and singing on Richie’s bike. How stupid they must have thought he was…

Sometimes, he could see that Richie wanted to talk to him about something. He parted his lips, thought about it, and then stopped himself, mentioning something light and probably unrelated to what he was trying to say in the first place. It was frustrating, but Eddie thought it was Richie trying his hardest to not be too overbearing, and he decided to let it go. If Richie had to say something important to him, he would, wouldn’t he?

The week went by, and Eddie appreciated most of it, every single moment he got to spend with his friends. He liked playing chess with Stanley at the club’s meetings. He liked spending time with them at the quarry or at the clubhouse, even though it was a security hazard, and he couldn’t help but think that one day, they might just get crushed under it. It was a thought that was usually accompanied by another one, that he forced himself not to think about as soon as he could: the idea that he’d rather die buried in the clubhouse than to spend the rest of his life in his mother’s clutches.

When he came home every day, he felt… strangled. He noticed even more how overbearing his mom was, how she would always look at him, and how she would refuse him any kind of intimacy. He could hear her footsteps near his bedroom’s door when it was closed, and she deliberately let it opened when she came in for some reason and then left. She insisted on helping him wash himself, comb his hair, and choose his clothes for him.

Eddie had actually a hard time believing that she realized that he was fifteen and not some kind of toddler that she had to watch over at any time. He kept thinking about Richie’s mom and how differently he was treated. The many things he could do and say, without having to fear being punished or locked in his room. He couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t his “normal”. But maybe, he started to think, his “normal” wasn’t “normal” at all…

All of this was extremely confusing for Eddie and, when he wasn’t with his friends, he was often deep in thought, trying to figure out this weird puzzle that his life had slowly started to become. To no avail. When he was in this state, it was tough for him to acknowledge what was happening around him. Which is why he didn’t realize that Belch was right behind him, grinning wildly, before letting out an awful burp next to his ears. Eddie immediately came out of his thoughts and gagged violently, clutching his hands against his locker door, pale as a ghost. He could hear his bully snickering, but he didn’t manage to react quickly enough when the guy snatched his fanny pack from his waist, agitating it in front of his eyes.

“It’s mine!” Eddie screamed uselessly, as if Belch didn’t realize it and would give it back to him, knowing this fact.

“Not anymore, girly boy. Now, it’s ours! Catch!”

Belch threw the fanny pack to Criss, who proceeded to open it and emptied it of its content. Eddie got whiter when he saw his medicine and inhaler on the floor, the dirty, dirty floor. He fell on his knees, attempting to save what was salvageable, when a foot stepped violently on his hand. Eddie hissed painfully, raising his head, feeling his heartbeat get quicker when he realized who stepped on his hand. Henry Bowers.

He hissed once again when Bowers grabbed his hair, whispering to his ear:

“What? I thought you liked it when it hurt… You fucking faggot!”

Eddie could only let out a whine, knowing that it was only the beginning, that they would hurt him horribly and that he couldn’t do anything about it. He closed his eyes, waiting for the worst, when suddenly they freed him, running away as fast as they could. He opened his eyes, bewildered, and saw her. His science teacher, Mrs. Beckett, who also presided the chess club.

“Are you okay, Edward?”

He tried to tell her that he was, but his eyes caught sight of his medicine and his inhaler on the floor, and he started to cry. He was so ashamed… People had started to gather around him, and he saw that the Losers’ club just arrived, looking at him with concern. He couldn’t stop thinking that they weren’t there when he needed them, and he scolded himself for this thought. It wasn’t their fault. They weren’t guilty. He was. He was so weak and stupid. If only he heard Belch coming, he could have run away, do something, anything. Instead, he just… froze.

Mrs. Beckett asked everyone to step back and go back to what they were doing previously, helping Eddie on his feet. He briefly saw that his friends were trying to gather his medicine and all in his fanny pack, and he felt even worse about his previous thought. No one ever did that kind of thing for him before… Richie was the one who gave him back his fanny pack, and Eddie grabbed it quickly, hugging it against his chest.

She told them to go back to their classroom, insisting severely when Richie tried to protest, before leading Eddie to an empty room. She inspected his skin, his hand, making sure that he was alright. Eddie let her do it, sniffling quietly. He was still ashamed, wishing that it never happened. He rubbed his eyes harshly, biting his tongue furiously. The shame was getting heavier and heavier and mixed up with anger.

He didn’t realize that he was planting his nails in the skin around his eyes until he felt Mrs. Beckett’s hands on his, a firm grip to make him stop. He always was a bit intimidated by the woman. She wasn’t a woman of many words, and she tended to have a cold and piercing stare. She never said or did a single bad thing to him during their chess club sessions, but he was still a bit scared of her. He couldn’t really help it.

“It’s not the first time you’re hurting yourself, Edward. Care to explain why?”

Eddie felt his cheeks becoming red. He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t something he could really explain. Since his last episode in the changing room, he was more prone to this kind of behavior when he got angry, scared, or stressed out. He found himself biting his lips, his tongue, and even his fingers. He kept tugging his hair and even hit himself, something he hadn’t done since his father’s death.

Eddie bowed his head, not daring to look at her, mumbling in a barely audible voice:

“I don’t know, Mrs. Beckett...”

And it was true. He really didn’t know. And no one could explain that to him. It was the first time an adult actually asked him that. Usually, his mom would just stop him, often harshly. And the grown-ups that were curious about it only asked his mother, who always had a good excuse: his medicine, a tantrum or whatnot. She still managed to make them think about how hard it was for her to handle him. Eddie didn’t like it at all.

“Are you seeing someone at the moment?” She asked, trying to meet his eyes. Eddie did his best to avoid it, his breathing getting wheezy.

“Seeing… someone? I… I have friends, yes, and...”

Her expression got a little softer and she interrupted him, a thin smile on her lips:

“I know that you have friends, Edward. Stanley is a good kid, I’m glad he found someone to play with him. You’re a really nice friend to him. But that’s not what I’m asking. I was wondering if you were seeing a therapist.”

A therapist. Eddie knew what a therapist was. His mom explained it all to him. It was for crazy people, for retarded people, and he wasn’t like that, right? He was sick, physically sick, but not in the head, right? Because his mom didn’t like crazy people and if he was… if he was…

“I’m not crazy!”

Mrs. Beckett seemed startled by his violent reaction. She took a deep breath, trying her best to compose a reassuring expression on her face. She wasn’t really good at it, Eddie thought to himself…

“I’m not saying that you are. Therapists are there for all kinds of people and all kinds of problems. I used to see one, you know.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, confused, surprised. He couldn’t imagine her like he tended to imagine what “crazy people” might look like, based on the movies and comic books he watched and read. He didn’t know what to say, how to react, plunged into a stunned silence.

“We have a therapist at school. I’m not forcing you to see him, but I think it could be a good thing to confide in someone that can help you.”

Eddie found himself sneering at the idea. Someone that could help him…

“You know what would help me, Mrs. Beckett? If Bowers and his friends were definitely excluded. Yes, that would help me a lot, actually! But are they even going to get punished? I don’t think so.”

The science teacher sighed. She didn’t seem pleased by the whole situation either.

“My hands are tied, Edward. You know very well who Henry Bowers’s father is. The headmaster won’t do a single thing about it unless Henry actually kills someone. That he suspended him because he hit you is nothing short of a miracle. Probably because there were tons of witnesses and your mother was quite… angry at the whole thing. Which I can understand.”

Eddie also sighed. He knew it. He knew it very well. And he hated it. If he could have Henry out of his life, it would already help a lot. Then, he’ll only have to deal with his mother… which was already a lot. He bit his lips once again, hesitating, before saying to his teacher:

“Thanks. For doing something.”

She smiled again, this smile that was barely perceptible. She didn’t seem really good with facial expressions. Eddie could relate, in some way.

“I wish I could do more, Edward. But for now, I’m asking you to think about my advice. And try to stick with your friends during recess, if you can. Other teachers might not intervene. I’ll see you at the next meeting, I hope.”

He nodded his head, before leaving the classroom. Mrs. Beckett was weird. But she didn’t seem to be a bad person. Maybe he could trust her.

But seeing a therapist… She really asked him to do that. Eddie could only think about his mom’s wild reaction when it was suggested to her by the school nurse. How shocked and disgusted she was, how adamant she was that her son was not “retarded”. That he was just physically sick. That he wasn’t crazy.

Going back to class, he kept thinking about his conversation with Mrs. Beckett, about all of those times his mother insisted that he wasn’t crazy, that he shouldn’t do things that crazy people did, insisting again and again that he was not sick in the head, only physically. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking that it seemed like she wanted him to be physically ill and this idea made him nauseous.

He barely reacted to Richie’s attempts to catch his attention and get him to look at him and talk to him. He was deep in thoughts, shielded from the rest of the world. He tried to imagine what it would be like if he asked his mom if he could see a therapist. How she would react. He frowned, thinking that she might scream at him. Maybe slap him, like she did when he tried to stop her from insulting Stan.

Or maybe she’d finally admit that he’s crazy and would give up on him. Eddie hugged himself at the thought, feeling suddenly anxious, among many other unidentified feelings. If she actually gave up on him, he would be free. Freer than ever. But… But… But he needed his mom, right? He was fragile. Sick. Broken. Without her, without her care, without her presence, he would… he might…

He thought about Richie’s words. How brave his friend thought he was. How he kept reminding everyone that Eddie saved him from Henry’s wrath. That he didn’t think that Eddie was weak. And maybe… just maybe… he wasn’t that weak? Maybe he could be… strong?

But Eddie thought about his medicine, his inhaler, all of those things that he needed to stay alive. About all of those times he snapped and let his mom take care of him, bathing him, combing his hair, feeding him. If she wasn’t there to do that for him when he couldn’t do it on his own… who would?

No, Eddie wasn’t brave. Eddie wasn’t strong. Eddie was weak and broken. And probably crazy. But he couldn’t admit that or he’d lose his mom. And he needed her. He needed her so much...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, this chapter was hard to write. Like, I have more time now that I'm confined, but I'm usually writing on the week-end and my brain kept telling me "no, no, that's not when you're supposed to do it", so I basically had to fight against myself to write this chapter. I hope it's still good. It didn't go in the direction I thought it would, at all. Also, it's too short, I'm sorry for that! 
> 
> Next chapter will be longer and come out this week-end, I'm hoping. Don't hesitate to leave kudos and comments!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I found the inspiration, so you get a new chapter today! 
> 
> This part was way easier to write than yesterday, even though my cat tried to smother me and to prevent my arms from reaching my keyboard xD. I hope you'll like it!
> 
> TW for ableism  
> TW for internalized ableism  
> TW for infantilization

It was the second time Eddie had the privilege to see Richie at his home without it being "homework related". Like the last time, it was thanks to his mother, who entertained Eddie's, keeping her company while they were both upstairs and reading comics on Eddie's bed.

Richie was a fast reader, but Eddie didn't mind. To be fair, he had a bit of a hard time to focus on the pictures and the words, his mind endlessly wandering, taking him away from his friend. He was thinking about what Mrs. Beckett told him, the idea of seeing a therapist, and how his mother would react. He didn't even dare to talk to Richie about it, because he was scared that he might consider him crazy and leave him alone.

So, he was just there, unable to fully enjoy Richie's presence, unable to concentrate on their shared passion, getting more and more confused and frustrated every minute passing by. Lying on his bed, stomach against the mattress, his legs were raised in the air and agitated, while he was mindlessly chewing on his fingernails. He fully knew that it was disgusting and the best way to get infected with a billion of diseases, but he couldn't help himself.

"D'you like the story so far, Eds?" 

Eddie snapped back to reality, turning his head towards Richie, giving him a clumsy smile. He stopped munching on his fingers, wiping them on his shirt. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. But he wasn't in the mood to do a single thing about it, not even freak out about it.

"Hmm, yes, it's okay. Nice. Great." 

Richie smiled back, saying with enthusiasm:

"It is, right? Especially this whole part with Catwoman… She's so sexy, dude. I'd let her claw my whole fucking body. And I mean my whole, entire body. Dick included." 

Eddie didn't really know what to answer to that. He just shrugged, his cheeks getting red:

"She's cool, I guess. I like her part in the story so far." 

Richie stared at him for a few seconds, with a disbelieving expression clearly painted on his face.

“Eds… It's a Marvel comic book. There's no Catwoman here. Not on a single freaking page." 

It took a few seconds for Eddie to realize his mistake. He paused for a while, musing on his error, looking for what he was supposed to say, only letting out a soft "Oh" before going back to munching his nails. Richie started to reach for his hands, before stopping himself at the last minute. He sighed, sitting on the bed, shaking his legs:

"You know, if you're bored or what, you can tell me. You don't have to put up with my nerdy interests because you think it will please me or whatnot. We're at your home, Eds. You should have fun too." 

"But I have fun!" Eddie let out a protest, before imitating Richie, sitting as well. His legs were crossed on the bed, his eyes wandering, stopping briefly on his friend before watching somewhere else. "I have fun. You're here. I like you being here. I swear. I don't want you to leave or to think that I don't want you here or…" 

Richie offered him another smile:

"Take a deep breath, Eds. I'm not thinking about leaving. I didn't even get to second base with your mom, and that's, like, the pivotal moment of our meeti..." 

Eddie threw his pillow at Richie's face, shutting him up efficiently. Richie laughed, his glasses crooked on his nose, while Eddie was pouting, trying his hardest to not let himself be contaminated by his friend's hilarity. Really, why the mom jokes? They were just awful! Eddie would rather plant nails in his eyeballs than to hear another one of these and have his brain unwillingly featuring the whole scene on the big screen. Ew, ew, ew!

"You're so gross. You're so fucking gross, Richie." 

"That's what excites your mom so much. She likes it diiiirty!" 

A crude expression on his face, Richie licked his lips. Eddie got redder and gagged loudly.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" 

He threw another pillow at Richie's face and hit him once again. The high-pitched yelp his friend let out finally did the trick, and Eddie found himself laughing, laughing, laughing…

He was wiping tears on his face when he managed to calm himself down. Meanwhile, Richie kept looking at him, smiling, letting him the time to recover from his laughing fit.

"Finally, a laugh… You look cute when you're happy like that, Eds, you know? I mean it." 

Richie pinched his cheeks, and Eddie whined:

“Cute, cute, cute!”

Eddie swatted his hand away, pouting and frowning:

"Stop doing that! And don't call me Eds!" 

"It didn't seem to bother you that much the three hundred times I did it before that. But that's your call, Eddie." 

Richie's grin only stayed a few seconds on his lips, before giving up to a more serious expression. He reached for Eddie's shoulder, but stopped himself before touching him, letting his fingers waggle in the air. Eddie raised an eyebrow, rolled his eyes, and got closer, allowing him to touch his shoulder. Richie was so happy that Eddie swore that he revealed to him that there would be two Christmases this year…

He was getting a bit more comfortable with Richie's touch, especially when he was not in the peak of his anxiety. Slowly, he let him enter his personal space, getting used to his tactile personality, allowing him to touch him a bit more every day. Though he was still jumpy when Richie did it before he could prepare himself for it…

“Eddie. I… I know that you don't want me to smother you or what. And, and fine, I know that I can be a handful, and I was clearly unbearable these last few days! But..." 

Richie seemed at a loss for words, shaking his legs, his hand squeezing Eddie's shoulder a little too tight. Eddie winced, and Richie retracted his hand, mumbling an apology. He fiddled with his glasses, unable to stay still more than a few seconds, before managing to say:

"You… You always seem… somewhere else, these days. And, like, I'm used to you not always reacting to what I'm saying or daydreaming and all. But sometimes, you really seem… out of reach. And I don't know what I can do to help, without annoying you or smothering you. I'm… I'm here, you know. If you want to talk about your mother or… or something else." 

He wanted to tell him. Eddie wanted to talk to Richie. About his doubts. About his fears. About his mother and how he was starting to get so confused about her. About what Mrs. Beckett said to him. But he couldn't. His lips were moving, but no sound was coming out of his throat. It was… stuck. He was so afraid that Richie might avoid him afterward that he couldn't find the courage to say a single thing. How brave he was, indeed…

“I’m fine. Just tired. Bowers and his goons did a number on me, fuckers." 

"Yeah, they did. Sorry, we weren't there. I was… busy. I had something to do, and I couldn't be there. But I should have been here to help. You're my friend." 

Eddie gave Richie a weak smile. Like he did before, Eddie reached for Richie's shoulder, squeezing it clumsily, before bringing back his hand to him, his heart beating loudly. It wasn't natural for him, touching others like that… The only person he usually touched was his mother, giving her the hugs she asked him for and the kisses and all. He didn't like it much, but she was his mom, and that's how a good son was supposed to show his affection. Probably.

"It's okay. I'm used to it. I didn't have any friends before, and I survived Bowers and his gang. I can still do it today." 

Richie grimaced at his words, shaking his head.

"I wish I talked to you before. I mean, I tried to, but you weren't..." 

“You did?”

Eddie looked at his friend, bewildered. He didn't remember a single instance during which Richie might have tried to talk to him. He only remembered the moment he spoke to him in class, and that's when they became friends.

Richie had a nervous laugh:

"Yeah, I did. But you were always, I don't know, reading or something. I couldn't get your attention, and I didn't want to pull your hair like we were fucking preschoolers or what, so I just kinda… gave up on it, I guess. To be honest, I thought you were ignoring me on purpose sometimes." 

Eddie tried really hard to remember, but he couldn't. He did spend most of his recess times reading his school books, when he wasn't hiding in the bathroom or the school library. And when he was reading, he rarely acknowledged what was happening around him. If he just raised his head once… Maybe… Maybe he and Richie could have become friends before…

"I'm sorry." Eddie said, biting his lower lip. "I should have… I don't know." 

Richie immediately shook his head, claiming with a protesting voice:

"No, no, no, Eddie, don't start to apologize for that! You're not guilty of… of working during recess and missing me. Actually, yes, you're super guilty, because, what the fuck, recess is meant for fun times, but you know! I… I'm the one who should apologize, I guess. I thought many times about going to visit you at your house, but I always backtracked, because I was scared of your mom and..." 

"Why, Richie? Why did you want to talk to me so much?" 

Once again, Richie was at a loss for words. His lips parted, closed, parted again, before he started to push out an answer:

"I… I guess I..." 

He was interrupted by the bedroom's door suddenly opening. They both jumped, but relaxed when they noted that it was Richie's mother.

"Richie, it's time. Eddie, did you start packing your stuff?" 

Eddie raised his eyebrow, highly confused. He looked at Richie, who let out a "Shit" before avoiding his mom's look:

"You did tell him that I was planning to ask his mother if she was okay with him coming to our house for the weekend, right?" 

Eddie was so shocked that he only managed to produce a whining sound, while Richie raised his hands in disbelief:

"How was I supposed to do that? What if she didn't agree?" 

"Stop underestimating your mother for once, Richard Tozier. You know very well what I'm capable of." Mrs. Tozier said, an exaggerated menacing expression on her face. She turned towards Eddie, giving him a patient smile. "Of course, it's only if you're okay with it." 

Eddie gulped, his heart beating faster and faster. He didn't anticipate it. At all. How could he? His mom never let him sleep outside of their home, except when he was asleep in the hospital. His mind was swirling with many thoughts and feelings. Happiness, yes, but also a bottomless pit of anxiety. He didn't realize that he was losing control of his breathing until Richie gave him his inhaler. He took a few puffs, but he was still stressed out.

"You don't have to, Eddie. It's okay. We can always organize this later, when you feel more comfortable with the idea." 

Mrs. Tozier was so lovely. So patient with him. Eddie didn't want to let her down. He couldn't imagine the efforts she went through to manage to convince his mom to allow him to do that. He couldn't just refuse, even though he was awfully nervous about the whole thing. He knew very well that his mom would use this moment to deny him any other kind of opportunity like this one.

He could hear her voice already, saying with her overbearing tone: _Oh, Eddie Bear, you shouldn't go there, you know that you're getting scared when you have to leave me. But don't worry, Mommy dearest is there for you. I'll always be there for you, Eddie sweetie._

Eddie shivered at the thought. He was anxious, yes. But he was stressed out most of his life, so he could handle it. And he will not be alone. Richie will be there too. And his parents.

“O… Okay. I’m in.”

Richie let out a noisy "Yes!" and punched the air, while his mom shushed him and helped Eddie to pack for their slumber party. He didn't know what to bring with him, to be fair. It was the first time he ever left his house for more than a day and not for medical reasons…

He was a bit surprised that his mom didn't come to his room while he was packing, but he quickly figured out why when he saw her going through his fanny pack, putting various tubes of medicine in it, checking if they were all filled to the brim. She took his wrist in her hand, not caring that Eddie clearly winced at the touch, checking that he was still wearing his watch.

Eddie clutched the straps of his bag, while his mother was towering over him, blabbering about his medicine and what he could and couldn't eat, that he needed to call her when they arrived at Mrs. Tozier's house, that he had to go to bed at nine and to remember to wash his hands whenever he could because "it might be dirty and riddled with germs, you never know." 

Eddie didn't dare to look at Richie's mom while his mother said that, feeling more than embarrassed. She didn't stop there, going to Mrs. Tozier, ordering her with a sweet smile on her face:

"My son is very fragile, Mags. He might need your help to wash himself or brush his teeth correctly. I expect you to do it, I hope I'm clear." 

Mrs. Tozier seemed startled by the idea, but she quickly recovered, assuring with a smile:

"Very clear, Sonia. Don't worry, Eddie will return to you as clean and healthy as he is now." 

"I hope so, Mags. For your sake and the sake of your family." 

Her tone was cold, menacing, threatening. But she immediately adopted a sweet voice when she asked Eddie to kiss her, and he did so, his breathing getting a bit wheezy because of her behavior. She kept at it, following them to Mrs. Tozier's car, insisting on fastening Eddie's seat belt. That's it. Eddie was definitely dying of shame. He barely managed to say goodbye to her, trying as hard as he could not to cry on the spot from the humiliation, the shame and the anxiety mixed together.

He jumped when he felt Richie's hand on his, looking at him with his wet eyes:

"We're not mocking you, Eddie. I swear. None of us. I… I won't tell the Losers about that. You have my word." 

Eddie couldn't hold his tears much longer. He sobbed, and he cried, and he tugged his hair, stopping when Richie squeezed his hand, feeling too much at the same time. He managed to calm himself down, listening to the radio in Mrs. Tozier's car, laughing at Richie's awful singing. His eyes were still bloodshot when they arrived at Richie's home, but he wasn't crying anymore. Eddie was sleeping at a friend's house, for the first time in his life.

No, more than that. He was sleeping at _Richie_ ’s house. And he didn't really know why, but it was even better than just the idea of staying at a friend's house. Eddie was getting drunk on happiness when he finally stepped out of the car, unable to stop himself from flailing his hands and bouncing on his feet.  
  
He was sleeping at Richie's house. He was sleeping at Richie's house. He was sleeping at Richie's house. It was really happening. Really, really happening. Right at this moment, Eddie was the happiest he ever been...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry, I was planning to write the slumber party in this chapter, but it was starting to get long and all, so you'll get this content next chapter!
> 
> I hope you liked it. As always, don't hesitate to leave kudos and comments. I'm always happy to read you, even if it's just to say a few words. Next chapter real soon!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the 15th chapter! I hope you'll like it! I wanted to write this sleepover so much, I couldn't wait! 
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> TW for internalized ableism  
> TW for self-harm

It was a strange feeling, the idea of being welcome somewhere. Being wanted. Eddie never really got to experience that before. Sure, his mom wanted him home. With her. All the time. If she could, she'd probably take him away from school and everything else and would just keep him with her, never letting him walk away from her. That was definitely the feeling he got when he called her like he was supposed to, using Mrs. Tozier's landline. That she wanted him with her, forever.

But that's not this kind of "welcome" that Eddie was feeling here, in Richie's home. They were happy to see him but would let him go if he asked. It was his choice to be here. His freedom. But right now, Eddie certainly didn't want to leave. He was buzzing with excitement, unable to keep it under control. His body was expressing it louder than it ever did, and no one tried to stop him or to restrain him. They were just… letting him do his thing.

Eddie timidly waved to Richie's father, who answered to his gesture with a smile and invited him to follow Richie to his bedroom to put his stuff there. Eddie's heart started beating fast at the idea. He never went to Richie's bedroom before. He barely remembered being at his home, too exhausted the last time he was there. Playing with his bag's straps, he followed Richie, raising an eyebrow when he witnessed the state of his room.

“Really, Richie?”

It was… a mess. Clothes everywhere. Books and comics opened here and there, as if Richie was literally flying from one to the other, unable to focus too much on a single one of them. His bed was barely made, as if he tried to put the effort for a second before giving up on it entirely. Eddie pointed his hand towards the chaos, his face scrunched up in a displeased expression:

"This is disgusting. You're disgusting." 

“Okay, so first of all, _rude_ , Eds!” Richie said, grimacing exaggeratedly. "Secondly, I wasn't even sure you'd be able to come! You know how hard it is to motivate yourself to do something when you can't even be assured that it's going to be useful?" 

"Richie, please. It's your room. You should want to have a clean room at all times. Not just when you're inviting someone over. Lord, have mercy..." 

Richie couldn't help, but giggle at Eddie's words and frustrated expression. Eddie gave him a severe look, a "What?" slightly aggressive coming out of his lips.

“Nothing. You're just so… old-fashioned. "Lord, have mercy", really, dude?" 

"S… Shut up, Richie! Help me tidy up this mess, instead of goofing around!" 

“Yes, chief!”

Eddie knew that he wasn't at his home and that it was ill-advised from him to even have said a single thing about the sad state of Richie's room. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't imagine Richie living in this mess. No, he kinda could, knowing his friend. But sharing a night, a whole night, with him, in this chaos? No. No, Eddie couldn't do that. It was beyond his strength.

Richie protested a bit, but he seemed okay with following Eddie's instructions while they cleaned up his room. Maybe he just had a bit of trouble to organize himself and do things in the right order… When Eddie didn't look over him, Richie tended to get distracted very quickly by the simplest things, or he seemed at a loss with what he was supposed to do.

Eddie didn't mind ordering him around either. Richie actually listened to what he was saying and was doing his best to do what he was told to do. It was a nice change of pace for Eddie. He was so used to people just dismissing his words or straight-up shutting him up. Being able to take charge for once, it was… cool. Enjoyable, even.

Almost an hour passed when Eddie found himself satisfied with Richie's room. A relieved "finally!" came out of Richie's lips, who immediately sat on his bed, crinkling the blanket. Eddie rolled his eyes at the sight, and Richie laughed:

"Come on, Eds, what do you want me to do? It'll only stay that clean if I'm never touching anything again. No, even better: if I never came back to my room from now on. You want us to sleep in the attic, Eddie? There are big, big, big spiders, even bigger than the ones in the clubhouse!" 

Eddie shivered at the thought, muttered a "No, thanks" under his breath before sitting as well, letting out a sigh. His lips stretched into a happy smile, and his legs moved enthusiastically. A humming sound came out of his throat, a delighted one, and Eddie immediately put his hand on his mouth, his cheeks red, highly embarrassed. What was that? He never did this before! Fuck. What if Richie heard it?

Richie gave him a worried look, carefully taking his hand in his and putting it down:

"Hey, hey, you don't have to… shut you up or what. It's cool, Eds. If it makes you feel good, just… I don't know. Hum. Sing. I'd say you could scream too, but my mom might not appreciate it, so you can tone that down, I guess. Not like I think you're going to suddenly scream or what! Just… uh..." 

Richie fiddled nervously with his glasses:

"I just want you to feel good, Eddie. And… And if making this kind of sound makes you feel good, then I want you to keep making them. I don't want you to stop on my behalf. On the contrary, I like hearing you and seeing you happy. I… I like..." 

A knock on the door interrupted Richie in his rambling, Mrs. Tozier asking if she could come in. Richie allowed her to do so, leaving Eddie puzzled. He couldn't imagine his mom knocking out at his door to enter. She just came in whenever she wanted. It didn't matter if he was changing out of his clothes or wanted to be alone. It was her house, so she could go wherever she wanted whenever she wanted.

"Oh my god, what happened to your room, Richie? I can see the floor! Oh, how I missed you, sweet floorboard! Did you even remember that your floor was this color, Richie? Oh, I might cry!" 

Richie rolled his eyes at his mom's playful monologue, while Eddie giggled. Mrs. Tozier came to Eddie's side, sitting on her knees, taking his hands in hers. Eddie jumped slightly at the touch, and she immediately stopped, her hands joining in a comical prayer gesture :

"Can you move in here permanently, Eddie? I'll pay you to do that. I've never seen Richie willingly clean his room before. You're a miracle. Praise Eddie Kaspbrak and his wonders!" 

"Mom, stop!" Richie quipped, furiously embarrassed. "What did you want to say? Aside from, you know, humiliating your favorite son?" 

Maggie Tozier got up, dusting her clothes with her hands, giving a tender smile to her son and his friend:

"I was just wondering if you wanted to help me bake some cookies. Your dad just broke the entire box of eggs because he was too eager to pass it to me, and I need you both to make sure that my kitchen isn't turning into some kind of an apocalyptic mess. You're in?" 

"Yeah, yeah, just need to put a mattress on the floor and let Eddie organize his stuff." 

"Gotcha, Rich! Don't make us wait too long, or your father will turn into Mad Max in the awful mess he's creating." 

She kissed her son on the forehead before leaving the bedroom. Eddie stayed still, looking at the door, bewildered. He never had that with his mom. This banter that he witnessed between Richie and his mother, how she just asked him something without expecting him to say yes, how natural it was between them to be affectionate…

A hand suddenly waved in front of his eyes and Eddie jumped slightly, coming back to reality:

"Ground control to Major Eds! You're okay, Eds?" 

Eddie nodded, his heart beating too fast, and opened his bag, organizing his stuff neatly. He blushed when he noticed that he packed his old teddy bear without really realizing it, leaving it in the bag and closing it quickly. No way he'd let Richie see that! He would mock him, that's obvious!

"If it's boring you or what, we don't have to go help in the kitchen. Mom will get it, you know. She's just offering that because… um… I think she likes you a lot and she wants to get to know you a bit more. Also, my dad is very impatient to get to talk to you. They're happy that I made a new friend." 

Eddie didn't know what to answer to that. He didn't think that there was something special with him, enough to make people happy that he could even be here, enough to make people want to talk to him. He wasn't used to compliments and could only blush at them, at a loss for meaningful words. So he just ignored this part of Richie's sentence and focused on what was easier to answer to:

"No, it's fine. I… I never really cooked before, that's all. I'm allergic to a ton of stuff, so my mom doesn't let me go near the ingredients. And I could burn myself on the kitchen stove, so that's out of the way too. I could cut myself with the knives, and I have a fragile constitution, so no knives either. And..." 

“Eds, Eds, Eds!”

Richie cut his nervous rambling, holding out his hand to him:

"Let's just… go there, okay?" 

Eddie nodded, taking Richie's hand in his. It was… nice. He liked this. This human touch. Richie's touch. But Richie stopped as soon as they arrived in the kitchen, stepping away from him.

"Went, stop with the chocolate chips, there won't be enough left for the cookies! Eddie, Richie, thank god, come here, I could really use your help right now! Rich, can you control the cookie monster that is your father, please?" 

"Only if you're giving me a whip, mom!" 

Maggie rolled her eyes, precisely at the same time as Eddie. They looked at each other and laughed, before Mrs. Tozier signaled him to come closer.

"Do you want to help me with the eggs, Eddie?" 

Eddie looked at her, then at the eggs, before biting his bottom lip. He mumbled, his cheeks getting red:

“I’m allergic. I can't touch or eat the eggs. Or chocolate. Or the flour. I..." 

"Eds, come on! You tasted my ice cream once, remember? You know what's in there, right?" Richie said, while wrestling with his father to take back the chocolate chips from him. "There are e..." 

Maggie shushed him quickly before looking at Eddie. She cupped his face in her hands, and once again, he leaned into the touch, unable to prevent himself from doing so. He just… He just liked that a lot.

“Eddie, listen. I promise that I won't tell your mother that you helped me cook or that you ate cookies, okay? I swear that she'll never know. You're going to be fine. You're going to help me, enjoy these delicious cookies, and you're going to be just fine, and Sonia will never know. Okay?" 

Eddie had started to wheeze a bit. He managed to calm himself down, thanks to Maggie's sweet touch, and he nodded, revealing in an awkward tone:

"I… I never did that before, though. Cooking and all..." 

"It's okay, I'll show you. You can't know without learning first, right?" 

Eddie barely noticed Richie's look on him, how he and his father actually got quieter when he started to get anxious. He focused on what was expected of him, not wanting to make a single mistake. It was probably easy, but he didn't want to risk it. Maggie believed in him to help her, and he was going to do so. As well as he could.

The kitchen was a mess when they finished, but they quickly cleaned it up. Richie groaned that he spent his whole afternoon tidying up his house, and got a few laughs from Eddie and his parents. They sat down on the couch to eat what they prepared together. Eddie didn't dare to take a cookie for now, keeping his hands to himself, bending his fingers nervously.

As if it was something he was used to, Wentworth Tozier immediately gave him a stress ball and Eddie squeezed it. He did it once, twice, thrice, feeling strangely soothed by the gesture. He managed to relax a bit, his posture getting less tense while Mr. Tozier handed the plate over to him:

"Do you want to taste one? They're delicious, son, I assure you. Besides, it's always the best part of cooking: when you get to eat what you prepared. Go on!" 

Son. Son. The word keeps playing back in his head, again and again. He didn't remember being called like that before. By a masculine voice. Did his father ever call him like that when he was young? He didn't remember. He couldn't remember. He…

“Eds! Eds!”

Once again, a hand was waved in front of his eyes. It took him a few seconds to react, to come out of his thoughts, and focus back on reality. He smiled weakly at everyone else and finally agreed to eat a cookie, taking a small bite. His eyes widened at the taste. Eddie didn't remember the last time he ever stimulated his tastebuds like that… It was… It was…

“… so fucking good." Eddie mumbled, with a slightly dazed gaze. He didn't even realize that he just swore, amazed by what he was tasting. Hearing Richie's wild laughter, he finally figured out what he just said and apologized quickly, swallowing what he just ate:

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Tozier, Mr. Tozier! I don't know what came over me, it was just really good and..." 

"It's fine, Eddie. And you can call us Maggie and Went, by the way. Don't make the swearing a habit, that's all." Maggie said, trying her best to contain her laugh. "We already have a sailor at home. If I made a swear jar, we'd probably be able to go to Hawaii next week, with what Richie says all the time..." 

"As if you and dad never swore before! Where do you think I learned all this stuff?" 

Wentworth shrugged, grinning widely:

"From school, obviously!" 

"Yeah, yeah, as if I ever learned a single thing from school..." 

Eddie took another bite from his cookie, watching and listening intently. He tried to imagine himself in Richie's place. With his mom and his dad. Talking like that. Laughing like that. Maybe… Maybe if his dad didn't die… Perhaps they could be like this? Maybe they could be… happy?

Eddie stayed quiet, thoughtful, munching on his cookie. His attention was suddenly caught by a picture, displayed on a nearby wall. Without thinking it through, he got up, getting closer to it. It was a picture of Richie and his dad. He was probably five or six years old, giving a thumbs up to the camera, revealing a smile with a missing tooth and a face slightly covered in scratches. His dad was next to him, a tissue in his hand, trying to wipe his face as much as he could, with a concerned expression.

"That was my first time on a bike without the training wheels. I got the hang of it quickly, but I ran into a barrier, trying to catch up to a squirrel roaming in our backyard. I lost my first baby tooth that day. Dad tried to make sure that everything was okay with my face and denture…" 

"Hey, I'm a dentist, that's what I do!" 

"And mom, this unworthy, terrible parent, just had to immortalize the moment..." 

"You were born for the camera, Richie." Maggie said, giggling slightly. "One second before, you were crying and, as soon as I was ready to take a picture, you gave me this smile and this thumbs up. You were so cute back then." 

"Hey, I'm still cute! Right, Eds?" 

Eddie didn’t answer. He tried so hard to imagine himself in this picture. But his dad was at the hospital when he had Richie's age. And his mom would have driven him to the nearest doctor, worried sick for her son. She would never have let him on a bike anyway. He… He just couldn't picture it. At all. And it was… it was… he couldn't describe it. Sad. Frustrating. Annoying. Too many things at the same time.

"I… I never rode a bike before." 

He didn't know why those words came out of his mouth. But they did and the entire Tozier family just… stared at him. Wentworth was the first to talk, with a decisive voice:

"Mags, get the camera. Richie, bring your old bike in the backyard. Eddie, son… I won't let you leave this house without teaching you how to ride a bike." 

“Wh… What?”

Everything went too fast for Eddie to realize what was happening. Suddenly, he was perched on a bike, Richie and his father at his sides, Maggie getting ready to take a lot of pictures, with the biggest smile on her lips.

"What the fuck? I don't… Richie!" 

Richie's hand went to his hair, brushing it off, before putting an old bicycle helmet on his head.

"You can do it, Eds. Just like at the quarry. You can do it. I believe in you." 

They spent the next hour teaching Eddie how to ride a bike. Eddie had a hard time overcoming his fear, but when he did and managed to cross the entire backyard back and forth without any help, the pride he felt was overwhelming. Maggie, Wentworth, and Richie cheered him off, showing their support.

When they finished, Eddie was exhausted. His clothes were a mess, his hair was sticking to his skin, and he might have had a few bruises here and there. But he couldn't care less. He was… He was… He was so happy. Maggie took a few pictures of them before setting the timer on the camera and running towards them to be in the photo with her family. Eddie gave a clumsy thumbs up towards the camera, smiling widely. He wanted this moment to last forever…

*

Eddie took a shower, letting the hot water dripping on his skin. He couldn't believe it, what just happened… He was really at Richie's home for a sleepover. He cooked with his parents. He ate cookies. He learned how to ride a bike. He… He really did all of that.

His thoughts were drifting towards his mother, towards his father. Would he be proud of him? What would his mom do if she learned what happened? He wasn't supposed to eat cookies. It was bad for his health, bad for his allergies. Riding a bike was highly dangerous. He could break his arms, his legs, maybe even his neck. He could die. He could also die using a knife, standing next to a kitchen stove… He could… He could die at any time.

“But mommy is there. Mommy's going to take care of you, Eddie Bear..." 

Eddie didn't realize immediately that he said it out loud. When he did, his eyes widened, and he put his hand on his mouth, shaking slightly. No. No, no, no, no. He didn't want to hear her voice. He didn't want to parrot her words. He wanted to… He wanted to…

_Can you move in here permanently, Eddie?_

Maggie's playful words came back to his memory, and he had to shake his head violently to chase them away. What was he thinking? It was stupid. Cruel of him. His mom loved him. She loved him and took care of him and he… he really thought about leaving her, about staying here, as if the Tozier family would ever want him here. Stupid. Mean. Stupid. Mean. Stupid.

Eddie slapped himself violently, staggering a bit in the shower. He shook his head once again. He needed to get a grip. Quickly. He was going to eat with Richie and his parents. Then they were going to the theater and Eddie and Richie would stay at home and watch some movies together. That's it. Simple as that. Eddie wasn't going to ruin their sleepover like that.

Getting out of the shower, Eddie looked at himself in the mirror. His cheek was red from the slap he gave himself before. He did his best to conceal the mark, washing his face, muttering under his breath like a litany:

“Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip...”

He finally took a deep breath and got out of the bathroom, joining Richie in his room to talk and read for a bit before it was time for them to eat.

It was also time for Eddie to take his medication. His watch beeped loudly to remind him of the fact, and he grimaced at the sound, opening his fanny pack, putting his meds on display:

"Can I take a look at your medicine, Eddie?" 

Eddie raised his eyebrow at Mr. Tozier's demand, but he just shrugged and let him do so. He missed the concerned looks that they were all giving to each other, enjoying his meal. It was so good and so tasty… So different from the bland stuff he was used to at home…

He didn't think about his allergies or anything else, just enjoying what he was given, talking happily with Richie and his family. Enjoying it while he still could…

Finally, it was time for Maggie and Wentworth to go to the theater. Maggie kissed her son on his forehead, while Went ruffled his hair, and she told him with a loving and concerned voice:

"Stay at home you both, okay? Don't take cans from my reserve..." 

Eddie clearly noticed Wentworth wincing at her words, but he didn't dare to say a single thing about it.

"… and don't traumatize Eddie with one of your weird movies, okay?" 

“Don’t worry, mom. I rented "The Goonies", he's going to love it. Go, go enjoy your evening, you both!" 

Richie pushed them out of the house, letting out an "I love you both!" before locking the front door on them. A relieved sigh came out of his lips, and he looked at Eddie with a wide grin:

"Okay, so now that we're on our own… I did rent out "the Goonies", but I also rented… this baby!" 

He pulled a videotape out of nowhere, showing it proudly to Eddie:

“Tonight, it’s beers… and "Poltergeist", my friend! I haven't seen it yet, but you're gonna love it!" 

Eddie gulped at the idea. Was he really going to love it? Was he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, it was getting long, so I had to stop there. Next time, Eddie and Richie are going to watch Poltergeist together and have their sleepover!
> 
> I hope you liked it. Some bits were quite emotional to write, I have to admit. 
> 
> Don't hesitate to leave a comment, even if it's just a few words. It really helps to get to know that you like (or don't like) my story. Next chapter coming out soon!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Here's the 16th chapter! And with this one, I think we're finally getting past the 50K words, wow! It's been a while since I wrote so much, I'm so glad to share that with you.
> 
> I hope you'll like this chapter! Here are the trigger warnings:
> 
> TW for r-word  
> TW for self-harm  
> TW for ableism  
> TW for internalized ableism  
> TW for infantilization

Eddie didn't really know what to expect from this movie night with Richie. He never did this kind of thing with a friend before. Of course, he often found himself watching various stuff on TV with his mom, because that's what she was doing most of the time when she wasn't working. They always watched what seemed interesting to her and Eddie would just tune out and think about something else because it was too boring for his liking.  
  
He never watched a horror movie before. He was a bit apprehensive, to say the least. Eddie didn't want to react too strongly and to make a laughingstock out of himself. Richie wouldn't stop teasing him if he found himself screaming or jumping at a scene, he was sure of it.  
  
And the beers… Eddie never drank alcohol in his life. Never. He knew how bad it was for his health, what it could cause in his body, in his brain, and the awful stories his mom told him were vivid in his mind. He was terrified at the idea that he could go into a coma or choke on his vomit and, frankly, he didn't even know how many drinks he would have to take for that to be more than just an unclear risk.  
  
So Eddie just straight up refused to take a single can and, for once, Richie didn't insist, opening one for himself, letting Eddie know that he could still taste it later if he wanted. Eddie wasn't sure why Richie didn't push him to do it, as he did when they went swimming or when he and his family taught Eddie how to ride a bike, but he was thankful for that. That way, he only had to worry about the movie and his possible reaction to it…  
  
He certainly didn't expect that, out of the two of them, Richie would be the one terrified by the movie. Eddie was clearly intrigued, but his mind was too grounded in reality to be truly scared. He knew that what he was seeing was fake. And, frankly, he was more afraid of Bowers, his mom's wrath, and to end up like his father than of a single thing happening on the screen. Probably why he wasn't really affected by the scary stuff displayed at him.  
  
Richie put on a brave face at first, but it instantly crumbled when the clown doll appeared on the screen. Eddie saw the change immediately. How tense Richie became. How closer he got to him. He couldn't help but smile when he heard him angrily muttering that he hated clowns, taking a nervous gulp out of his beer can.  
  
"Why a fucking clown? Why not a… a Raggedy Ann Doll or, I don't know, anything else, actually? For fuck's sake..."  
  
“Scared of clowns, Richie?”  
  
Richie seemed offended at Eddie's remark, shaking his head vividly:  
  
"Scared, me? I'm never scared! And certainly not of a clown and… and this stupid movie!"  
  
"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say."  
  
Eddie laughed before focusing again on the movie. It was… interesting. Not really what he was expecting. Not that he knew what he was expecting, to be honest… But Richie was clearly the most entertaining part of this movie night. Even though the clown doll didn't make much of an appearance again, Richie kept claiming that this "fucker" was moving in the house, that it was hiding in the shadows, that it was going to eat the kids…  
  
"Richie, it's a doll. Dolls don't eat people, you're aware of that?"  
  
"It's a fucking horror movie, Eds! Anything can literally happen. Seriously, how can you be so stoic? You never even gasped once, for fuck's sake. It's not funny! This was supposed to be you being scared and asking me to protect you, and I would have been the knight in shining armor, and I would have teased the shit out of you!"  
  
Eddie laughed, ruffling Richie’s hair:  
  
"You told me yourself that I'm brave, Richie. Too brave to be scared of a stupid movie… or a stupid clown doll. Look, it's on the screen!"  
  
Richie turned his head quickly towards the television, letting out a weird noise, and Eddie laughed even more. There was no clown on the screen. Not right now, anyway. Richie gave him a nasty look, pouting and crossing his arms:  
  
"You're mean. You're so mean, Eds. Tonight, you'll sleep in the attic. With the spiders."  
  
Eddie flicked Richie on the nose as an answer, before turning his attention back to the movie. It seemed like, this time, the clown doll would have a role to play… It wasn't where the kid left it. Eddie heard Richie whimpering a bit, and he decided that his suffering had lasted long enough. He kinda wanted to know where the movie was going, but the idea of terrifying Richie just didn't sit well with him.  
  
"It's boring. Can we stop watching it?"  
  
Richie would have been too proud to ask Eddie to pause the movie. But if Eddie was bored and wanted to do something else… He didn't comment on how eager Richie was to stop the movie, right when the kid was looking under his bed to find the clown doll. It wasn't funny anymore. Richie really seemed shaken up by the film.  
  
Eddie could see how his eyes darted towards the darkest parts of the room they were in, as if he was expecting the doll to be there and to grab him by surprise. Staying here wouldn't do him any good. Eddie suggested spending the rest of the night in Richie's room, and Richie happily obliged, getting rid of the beer can he drank, making sure he didn't leave a mess behind him. He wasn't supposed to drink, after all…  
  
After they brushed their teeth and put on their pajamas, Eddie prepared himself to lie on the mattress that Richie put on his floor. But Richie prevented him from doing so, shaking his head:  
  
"No, no, you're not sleeping on the floor, Eds! On the bed, now!"  
  
Eddie rolled his eyes, but he didn't protest. He'd rather sleep on the bed, to be fair. He was fragile, and sleeping on just a single mattress on the floor could fuck up his posture, his back, and whatnot. Richie hesitated for a while, his eyes wandering between Eddie and the mattress, before he finally suggested, avoiding Eddie's gaze:  
  
"We should probably… share the bed. You know, just in case you had a nightmare or what. I saw you jumped slightly during a scene in the movie, so it's my duty to make sure that you sleep soundly in my home."  
  
Eddie was skeptical. Clearly. And hesitant as well. He never slept with someone else before. Sure, he did share his mom's bed once or twice when he was younger, notably when his dad died, and his mom and himself needed each other's company, but… but that was not the same, right? And Richie's bed was not conceived to be shared by two people. It was absolutely certain that their bodies would touch in some way. And Eddie didn't like to be touched. But he started to tolerate Richie's touch more and more and… and Richie was clearly scared and needed him by his side, so…  
  
"Okay. I did jump a bit during the movie. Go on, be my knight in shining armor."  
  
A big smile made its appearance on Richie's lips, and he immediately jumped on the bed, prompting an eye roll and a barely suppressed grin from Eddie. Richie turned on the boombox on his nightstand, David Bowie's voice slowly filling the room. Richie went back to fiddling with the sound settings when he saw that it was a bit too loud for Eddie's comfort, before finally settling on the bed.  
  
Finding out how to be comfortable together was not an easy feat. The bed was definitely too small for two people, and Richie kept brushing Eddie's skin here and there, without meaning to do it. It happened randomly, and Eddie couldn't brace himself for the feeling yet to come, unable to predict when and where it would happen.  
  
He tried his best to hide his discomfort, for the sake of Richie, but he wasn't really good at it. He couldn't focus on what they were talking about, jumped slightly every time Richie touched him, and he was losing control of his breathing. Seeing how distressed Eddie was, Richie immediately got out of the bed, ashamed and embarrassed:  
  
"I'm sorry, I know you don't like to be touched. I'll… I'll just stay on the mattress. It's fine."  
  
He intended to do so, but Eddie grabbed his wrist, drawing Richie back to him. Richie sat on the bed, visibly confused, while Eddie tried his best to explain himself:  
  
"I… I don't like… light touches. When… When I can feel your hand or your foot on my skin, but it doesn't last, and it's barely more than a brush, it feels like I'm being… stung by a bee or something. But..."  
  
Eddie blushed, suddenly awfully embarrassed by what he was going to suggest. Surely, Richie was going to find that ridiculous, right?  
  
"I'm… I'm fine with… with lasting touch. Firm pressure. I… If we were… you know… close to each other… like we were… hugging or what… it would be… okay."  
  
As soon as he finished his sentence, Eddie felt more shameful than ever. Did he really suggest to Richie to hug him? Like he was his teddy bear or something? God, he really did bring his plush too with him! How old was he? Stupid, he was so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!  
  
Unable to process the intensity of what he was feeling, Eddie started to slap himself on the head harshly, letting out a frustrated humming sound from his throat. He stopped as soon as he felt Richie's arms hugging him tightly, his own hand falling on the bed like a dummy whose strings have been abruptly cut.  
  
“Like this?”  
  
Richie wasn't mocking him. Richie wasn't judging him. He just… He just hugged him, tightly, strongly, just like Eddie liked it. The way Eddie would try to hug himself when he felt anxious and needed comfort. The way his father used to hug him in one of the few memories he had of him. Eddie nodded, his humming slowly dying down as Richie kept hugging him, brushing his hair with one hand, murmuring calming words to his ear. It was… It was good. It was perfect.  
  
"I hate clowns. They're creepy as fuck."  
  
Eddie looked at Richie, giving him a clumsy smile. He didn't feel like talking just right now, but he wanted to hear Richie. He let out an interrogative noise, hoping that Richie would understand. And he did, still brushing Eddie's hair, a feeling that Eddie found very nice.  
  
"The worst offender is Ronald Mc Fucker Donald. Seriously, have you seen his commercials? He's like offering kids to go to his magic kingdom or whatnot, and he has such a fucking creepy smile, and he knows every kid by their name. That's like Pedophilia 101. His magic kingdom, right."  
  
Eddie giggled at Richie’s crude humor, encouraging him to continue:  
  
"My mom took me to McDonald once when I was young, and I think a kid was having his birthday or something? He was there, in his creepy clown costume with his creepy smile and his creepy make-up and like, until then, I'd never seen clowns in my life. It was my first encounter, and I immediately knew that they were the worst thing ever created on this planet. So, what did little Richie, five years old and knee-high, do?"  
  
Eddie shrugged. He could clearly guess that Richie didn't go to the clown to give him a kiss, but what he did? He had no idea. Richie had a laugh before revealing, smiling widely:  
  
"I ran to the fucker, and I kicked him in the nuts. As hard as little ol' me was able to."  
  
Eddie snorted and laughed, clearly imagining the scene. Richie as a little kid, running towards the poor guy dressed as Ronald McDonald to kick him in the groin, probably proud to have "defeated the monster" or something like that. Eddie laughed and laughed and laughed until he started to tear up a bit. He wiped his cheeks, finally able to ask in a trembling voice:  
  
“And what… what happened next?”  
  
"Well, the guy fell to his knees and whined a "fuck", probably the first time I heard this word. My parents ran to him to apologize for my behavior, but they quickly changed their tune when the guy started to scream at me and scared the shit out of me. I think my mom slapped him? I'm not totally sure. Anyway, after that, my nights were plagued with nightmares involving clowns for a whole week, and I still hate these fuckers from the bottom of my heart. But I'm not scared, no, never!"  
  
Eddie giggled, letting out a "Yeah, right." before curling up against Richie, listening to his heartbeat and the song that was actually playing on the cassette player. He clearly recognized it, remembering how Richie introduced himself to him the first time they properly met. He started to mutter the words unconsciously, along with the music, slightly different from the lyrics he could hear:  
  
"Ground control to Major Edward, take your pen and put your helmet on..."  
  
"You remembered! Yeah, it's this song. Bowie is just the best. You like it?"  
  
Eddie nodded, listening to the song, letting it invade his senses, fill his mind with tons of feelings and various pictures. He didn't have a cassette player at home. His mom thought that his eardrums were too delicate to handle what she called "savage music". But that didn't stop her from screaming at him when she was angry, though…  
  
They stayed silent for a while, just enjoying the other's presence, listening to the music that filled the room. At one point, Richie heard his parents return, and he turned off the music, before hugging Eddie again. Eddie found himself missing his touch when he left briefly, not really knowing why.  
  
“Richie?”  
  
Richie let out an interrogative “Hmm?”, prompting Eddie to continue:  
  
"I… I wanted to thank you. I… It was really a great day. I… I don't think I've ever been that happy before. I don't want it to end."  
  
His voice broke slightly at the end of his sentence. Eddie wanted this day to last forever. He didn't want to go back to school, to the way things usually were and... and he didn't want to go… home. To his room that was too neat and clean and empty. To his house that didn't have pictures of a happy family or never smelt like cookies.  
  
To… To his mom, who never listened to him like Richie's mom listened to him, who didn't teach him things like Richie's father taught him, who just… who just treated him like a child who was unable to do a single thing when he started to realize that he actually could.  
  
He could swim. He could ride a bike. He could fasten his seat belt on his own. He could wash himself without needing help. He could take a punch from his bully. He could eat cookies and not get sick. He could cook. He could do…. He could do so many things. But not with his mom. Never with his mom.  
  
No matter what he'll say to her, no matter what he'll do, she will always think that he's too fragile to survive in this world without her. She will always treat him like a precious doll, risking to break at every turn, at every obstacle he'll have to face. Always see him as his baby, his fragile, sick baby that she had to protect from everything, even if it meant taking him away from the rest of the world, from his friends.  
  
He didn't want to come back. He didn't want to come back. He didn't want to come back.  
  
"Eds? Eds, you're still there?"  
  
But she was there for him. She was there for him when he needed her, and he did need her. There were times when he couldn't even feed himself and was too shaken up to even know what he was doing, what was happening around him. But this distress, most of the time, it was coming from her, right? Because she treated him like this, because she said awful things about his friends, because she prevented him from doing so many things, because she… because she…  
  
Richie hugged him tightly, so tightly that Eddie could barely breathe. But the pressure helped him to come back to reality, pulling him out of his thoughts. That's when he realized that he was biting his fingers harshly, so much that he could almost taste the copper from his blood.  
  
He stopped himself from doing so, embarrassed, scared by the fact that he didn't even realize that he started to do that. He found himself humming nervously once again, and Richie did his best to soothe him, hugging him, rocking him slightly. The movement helped Eddie to relax and slowly, his tension evacuated, while he went limp in Richie's arms.  
  
Eddie was getting tired, awfully tired. His eyes flickering, he whispered in a confused and sleepy voice:  
  
"I… I think my mum isn't treating me… well… She… I..."  
  
Eddie didn't pursue his thoughts, sleep catching up to him before he was able to do so. A light snore came out of his lips, and he instinctively snuggled against Richie's body, not realizing how close they were. How good he felt, touching Richie, feeling his friend against him.

*

  
  
Eddie never slept that well before. He woke up, feeling well-rested and peaceful. His eyes opened, and he saw that Richie was looking at him, still hugging him. Instantly, Richie scooted away from him, and Eddie found himself missing his touch, wanting to snuggle a bit more. His mind, not entirely awaken, wasn't really in the proper state to let him linger on this thought and Eddie just let this feeling go away, rubbing his eyes, mumbling sleepily:  
  
"G'd m' rning, Rich."  
  
"Hi, Eddie. Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Uh-uh..." Eddie whispered, before yawning loudly. Richie laughed at the sight and the sound, ruffling Eddie's hair, causing him to let out a grunt.  
  
"I'm going to take a shower. Take the time you need to wake up and all. Breakfast is waiting downstairs."  
  
Richie darted to the bathroom, letting Eddie on his own. Eddie slowly sat on the bed, doing his best to leave his content sleepy state and to finally wake up. It's been a while since he slept that well, he wasn't used to the feeling. Eddie wasn't sure Richie was as well-rested as he was. He saw that Richie had bags under his eyes and he seemed quite in a hurry to go to the bathroom, for some reason.  
  
Eddie finally got up, making the bed and gathering his things, knowing that he would have to leave sooner or later. Go back to his home. Go back to his mom. He didn't want to. He really didn't want to go home, he realized it quite clearly now. Home was… Home was not his mom's house. His mom's house was nothing more than a jail, a cold and oppressive jail. Home was supposed to be where he was happy. Home was… Home was Richie's house.  
  
"Eddie?"  
  
A hand on his. A lock of hair tangled in his fingers. Eddie slowly returned to his senses, a confused "Uh?" coming out of his mouth, raising his head. Richie's mom was looking at him with worried eyes, visibly concerned:  
  
"I knocked at the door, but you didn't answer. I heard some weird noise, so I allowed myself in. I'm sorry for the intrusion, Eddie. Are you… Are you okay, honey?"  
  
Was he okay? He wasn't sure. He was pulling on his hair, right? His scalp hurt a little. He was curled up on the floor. He didn't remember sitting down. How long has it been since Richie left to take a shower? Eddie couldn't tell. He slowly got up, slightly unsure on his legs. He saw Richie standing at his bedroom's door, clearly worried. He didn't want to worry him. He didn't want to worry Maggie either. They were so nice to him. They didn't deserve to bear his burden.  
  
"I'm… I'm fine. Just fine, I promise. I'm… I'm gonna take a shower, and I'll join you for breakfast. Okay?"  
  
They seemed unsure, but they agreed and, taking some clothes, Eddie wobbled to the bathroom, heart beating too fast, his mind filled with conflicting thoughts, clashing wildly with each other.

He wasn't fine. He definitely wasn't fine. And he didn't understand why. He was so happy yesterday. So, so happy. And now… Now he was… confused. And frustrated. And angry. And sad. And he shouldn't be, because he was with Richie and his family, because he had to enjoy the time he still got to spend with him, because… because…  
  
His watch beeped loudly. Eddie jumped and, filled with anger, he slammed his wrist against the sink. He felt pain but, more than that, relief. And then fear. His watch was broken. His watch was broken, and his mom was going to be angry. And she had every right to be angry, because… because Eddie was a terrible son who didn't want to be with her, who'd rather spend his time with his friend's family than his own, an ungrateful son who didn't deserve the sacrifices his mom made for him.

The pain in his wrist was getting more and more intense, but Eddie just ignored it as best as he could, taking his shower. He deserved it. He deserved the pain. He was a bad son, and he needed to be punished for that. Just like the moment his mom slapped him because he dared to talk back to her.  
  
He stayed too long in the shower, not even washing himself, letting the cold water run over his skin. He was shivering when someone knocked at the door and called him with a worried voice. Eddie managed to pull himself out of his state, whatever it was, and washed himself as thoroughly as possible. He kept wincing when he had to use his right arm, but he clearly deserved it, so he powered through the pain and finally cleaned himself, dressing up and joining Richie and his family to eat.  
  
He didn't know when he was supposed to go home, but he clearly didn't expect his mom to come to get him. The doorbell rang loudly, while Eddie and Richie were watching some show on the television. Richie opened the door, Eddie following him, and there she was.  
  
"Eddie, it's time to go home."  
  
Eddie didn't answer. He was looking at her, stunned, unable to process what was happening right now. She snapped her fingers loudly to get his attention, and he cringed, putting his hands on his ears.  
  
"Stop your antics right now, Eddie bear. It's time to go home."  
  
Richie was about to retort something when his parents came at the door, Maggie sporting a tight smile, Wentworth looking at Eddie's mom with a suspicious gaze.  
  
"Sonia, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon! Do you want to join us to eat? I was just about to cook something. Richie's friends are coming this afternoon, I could drive Eddie back to your home as soon as..."  
  
Sonia waved her hand dismissively:  
  
"We'll stay with you for the meal, but Eddie's coming back home right after that. I need to be sure that he took his medicine properly and he needs to be cleaned thoroughly after spending time in your… home."  
  
She ran one of her fingers over a piece of furniture, clearly expecting to collect dust. She didn't, but she still frowned, a disgusted expression on her face.  
  
Meanwhile, Eddie just stayed still and quiet, not even daring to look at his mom. He was terrified that she would notice his broken watch or the way his wrist kept hurting him. Maybe she would guess that he had cookies yesterday and this morning at breakfast? That he rode a bike when he wasn't supposed to? That he watched a movie that was intended for grown-ups?  
  
He started to wheeze and had to pull out his inhaler, prompting a victorious "Ah!" from his mom:  
  
"My Eddie is so fragile. He can't handle dusty houses. Thankfully, our home is perfectly clean, and he never has any trouble breathing there."  
  
It was a lie. It was clearly a lie. Eddie had asthma attacks in his home all the time. But he didn't dare to say a single thing. He knew that she would cut him immediately, stopping him from saying even a word. So he just… shut up. Just like when he was at the doctor with her, Eddie bowed his head, focusing his stare on the ground, tuning out what was happening around him.  
  
It was useless, paying attention to anything, trying to participate, to talk. As long as he was with his mother, she would do all the talking for him. And he just had to stay silent and calm, like a good boy, like the nice son he was supposed to be. He didn't answer to Richie when he tried to reach out to him, already settling in the role his mom created just for him.  
  
He didn't need help to take his medicine, and yet, he let her do it. He didn't need her to eat, and yet, he didn't fight when she took his fork from him, pestering against Maggie's food and how unhealthy it was. He didn't even know what he was eating, to be honest. He was so far gone at the moment that he barely realized that they finished eating, that the Toziers desperately tried to get a single word out of him and that he just had given them this blank stare, this far away gaze, as if nothing could reach him right at this moment.  
  
He let her get his stuff in Richie's room and stayed in this silent, submissive state even when she was gone, knowing fully well that she was there and that she would come back and that he didn't matter anymore. She wouldn't listen to him. She wouldn't let him talk. Even if he asked nicely to stay a bit more, she would just dismiss him and bring him back home.  
  
Eddie didn't realize that he started to hum once again until his mom yanked his arm violently to stop him. Thankfully, she yanked his left arm, so it wasn't too painful.  
  
"Stop making that sound! You remember what I told you, right? You remember, Eddie bear?"  
  
He couldn't utter a single word, and he was getting more and more distressed, unable to stop himself from humming. Richie tried to intervene, but his mom stopped him, doing her best to appease Sonia:  
  
"It's fine, Sonia, really, don't worry, I..."  
  
Sonia didn't pay her any mind, whispering to Eddie's ear, loudly enough for anyone else to hear:  
  
"Crazy and retarded people are making this kind of noise. But you're not crazy nor retarded, you're just sick, so stop that immediately, or I'll pull you out of school for the rest of the year, am I clear?"  
  
Eddie immediately fell silent, his humming coming to a halt. He started to scratch the palm of his hand, while his mother was helping him put on his jacket. He didn't even try to put on his shoes on his own, his mom instantly bending down to tie them up for him. She was clearly exaggerating. She never went that far when they were alone. That was a show she was putting on for Richie and his parents. And Eddie just let her do it.  
  
"Look at you, Eddie. I can't let you on your own, you can't do anything without me."  
  
"Actually, he was doing just fine until..."  
  
Maggie shushed her husband quickly, nudging him as discreetly as she could.  
  
"Eddie was very nice and polite, Sonia. It's clear that he's properly educated. I hope we'll get to see him soon enough. He's such a good example for my Richie!"  
  
Eddie wasn't in the right state of mind to understand that Maggie was lying, just to appease his mother. Maggie was the perfect mother for him and if she said that he was properly educated… then that must mean that what his mom was doing was good for him, right? If Maggie thought so...  
  
It was enough to make his mommy happy, anyway. She seemed awfully proud, agreeing to let Eddie come back sooner or later, before leading him to the car. Eddie's head leaned against the car's window while his mom was fastening his seat belt. He didn't even say goodbye to Richie, to his parents…  
  
He slowly raised his hand, struggling to focus his dazed look on his friend, before going back to his troubled thoughts, unable to understand what his mother was saying to him while they were driving off. He was… tired. He was so, so tired… From his mother, from himself… From everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I didn't expect this chapter to be so long or to go in that direction. At first, Eddie was supposed to spend the afternoon with the Losers, but Sonia invited herself and well... You see how it went!
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter. Don't hesitate to leave kudos and comments, as always, I'm so happy to get to read what you thought of the chapter or the fanfic in general.
> 
> Next chapter coming out soon! Bye!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter 17! So, I'm probably going to split this story in two volumes in a near future and we're slowly getting close to the end of the first one, so brace yourself for that xD.
> 
> I hope you'll like it! 
> 
> Here are the trigger warnings, as usual:
> 
> TW for ableism  
> TW for evocation of self-harm  
> TW for homophobia  
> TW for r-word  
> TW for alcoholism

Adults sucked. That's what Richie was thinking while looking at the school therapist, bouncing his leg, trying to put some order in his chaotic thoughts to determine what he should talk about. Oh, there were tons of things he wanted to talk about, that was for sure! Richie was filled to the brim with issues, secrets, and questions that needed an answer. In an ideal world, he could just tell them to his therapist, and the guy would be supportive and all.

But this world wasn't an ideal world, Richie realized it quite quickly. He wasn't naive like he used to be, little Richie admitting to his therapist that he really, really liked the quiet kid who was always reading in the schoolyard, but he didn't know how to talk to him and to let him know that.

Richie was twelve when he confessed about that feeling to the school therapist. Twelve years old, painfully awkward, in this weird period between childhood and teenage years, navigating in his gangly body as well as he could, not knowing who he could talk to about his weird feelings. But certainly not the school therapist. He still remembered to this day how the man told him that he was just _confused_. That it was good to make friends, but that guys were never supposed to be more than that. Richie hadn't even thought at the time that he could be gay, but he already knew that it was _wrong._

And he was now fifteen. Fifteen years old, still awkward as hell, talking about girls and boobs and sex as much as he could just to get people to think that he was actually interested in the stuff. And with a painful, terrible, scary crush on his friend. On Eddie Kaspbrak.

Fuck, Eddie Kaspbrak… He didn't even really know why, but Richie remembered being instinctively attracted to him.

Watching him closely when he was on his own during recess, reading some school book that Richie couldn't care less about, impermeable to the rest of the world. Trying to work up the courage to talk to him. Sulking when he didn't get any answer from him, convinced that Eddie was ignoring him on purpose. Thinking about going to see him at his house, then giving up on the idea, because, well, he never even talked to him, why would Eddie want to hang out with him? Even though he always seemed so alone….

When they finally found themselves being classmates, Richie couldn't have been happier. Eddie was very different from everything he could have imagined. There was something… fierce, in him. A bright fire, to which Richie just wanted to get closer and closer, even if it meant burning himself in the process. He was so happy when Eddie became a part of his world. He didn't even dare to ask for more: having him as a friend, as his best friend was enough.

Until it wasn't. Until his heart decided to beat and to beat and to beat like a loving idiot, until his body just reacted to the fact that yes, he was hugging Eddie, Eddie was close to him, and Richie could feel him against his skin and… and fuck. Richie didn't sleep that night. He just… He just watched Eddie, listening to his cute, light snoring, making sure that he wasn't hurting himself or suffering from any nightmare. He watched him, like a simple man looking at the sun and basking in its light.

Richie looked at his therapist, trying to imagine what would happen if he confessed to him about what he had done after this night. How his body reacted. What he had to do to relieve himself, because he couldn't let Eddie know that he had this effect on him, because he couldn't risk losing him so stupidly. A weak smile stretched his lips, his mind picturing how offended the man would be.

Richie managed to make him think that yes, indeed, him being attracted to 12 years old Eddie was just a _phase_ , that he loved women and their bodies and that he was a perverted teenage boy who spent most of his time wanking it while reading porn magazines. If he told him that he had a boner because he slept with his friend and hugged him… Well, might as well call an exorcist, because Richie would be a lost cause in his eyes.

Maybe he'll send him to one of these camps Richie heard about. He was terrified of the idea. That's why he never spoke about his feelings to anyone else after that. Not his therapist. Not his parents. Not his friends. Especially not his friends! What if they… What if they started to hate him? What if Eddie was disgusted by his feelings? Richie wouldn't dare to dream that Eddie could love him the way he did, but… but maybe Eddie wouldn't even want to be his friend, after that…

"You're quite quiet today, Richard. That's not usual for you." 

Richie jumped a bit, startled, coming back to reality. The man had a nice smile, the kind of smile that made people want to talk. To confess. And yeah, the guy was a good listener. He had some good pieces of advice here and there. But Richie couldn't just forget that he thought that his feelings were wrong. That it made him a sick person. Maybe it was the case. He didn't really know. He was just sure that it wasn't a phase and that he was definitely in love with his friend. With Eddie Kaspbrak.

"Is there something you want to talk about? I'm all ears. You seem tired. Worried." 

Richie bit his lip, before letting out a sigh. All he wanted to talk about was Eddie. And not just about the stupid crush he had on him. Eddie… Eddie was in danger. Eddie needed help, not him. And Richie didn't know what to do. He couldn't stop thinking about how differently his friend was when his mother came looking for him.

Eddie wasn't meek. He didn't need the help Sonia Kaspbrak gave him. He was proud, brave, and could do so much more than what anyone else thought of him. Richie hated the way he just… shut down around his mother. At first, he didn't really understand why Eddie tended to hurt himself so much, something that was so painful to witness every time Richie had to see it, but now, he clearly got it.

His mother never gave him any outlets to express himself, to evacuate his feelings, to talk about the things that were worrying him. Eddie had no way to handle his emotions, to experience them healthily, and to learn how to understand them and control them properly. His mother just expected him to be this sweet, perfect angel, and if he dared to do something else, she would just… take everything away from him.

So Eddie shut down. Obeyed. He had slipped into this submissive role as soon as she was there with him, closing himself from the rest of the world. It was scary to witness, his blank gaze, his far-away expression, how he suddenly became way clumsier than he was usually, quiet and malleable. It wasn't Eddie. It was nothing more than a shell that Eddie had to build to protect himself from Sonia, from everything. And… And Richie hated this shell.

But what was he supposed to do? Eddie wasn't even in school this week! Richie didn't know the details, but apparently, Eddie broke his wrist or something and had to spend a few days in the hospital. He was back home, but he missed school again, and Richie hadn't been able to see him since then. He was worried sick and really, really wanted to make sure that Eddie could spend some time with him, away from his mom's grasp.

So yeah, Richie had a lot to talk about. He just didn't know where to start. And if he could even trust the school therapist to do something. He sighed again, bouncing his knee even more:

"I have a… a friend who has a lot of issues. And… And I want to help him, but I don't know where to start." 

The school therapist looked at Richie with a serious gaze, pondering on his words:

"This friend… It's a boy, right? Is he a… a friend or…?" 

Richie hated how his therapist couldn't even say the words, as if he was about to utter the worst sentence ever told by a man in history. He rolled his eyes, annoyed and frustrated:

"A friend. A good friend. You know me, Sir. I like boobs. Big boobies. Bosoms. Nipples. Tits. Udd..." 

"Stop, stop, I'm getting the picture, thank you very much, Richard." 

Richie laughed, satisfied to see how his school therapist was squirming in his seat, visibly uncomfortable, but he quickly went back to being serious:

"This friend, he… he's not at school right now. And his mom is not letting him see anyone else other than her. She's treating him like a helpless child, and the worst is that I think he sees himself that way too. He's... He's more and more violent towards himself, and sometimes, I feel like I can't reach out to him at all. He's… He's so deep in his thoughts that I could pinch him, and he would barely react. I'm… I'm scared that one day, he might just not come out of this state anymore." 

Richie’s throat closed. He was unable to utter a single other word, doing his best to not cry right there, on the spot. Fuck… He was so worried about Eddie. Why was he just a fucking teenager, unable to be there for his friend in a meaningful way? Unable to help him?

"You're talking about Edward Kaspbrak, right? I have to admit that I'm concerned about him as well." 

Richie raised his head, looking at his therapist with a surprised expression:

“You are?”

The therapist nodded, presenting a somber face:

"It has been made very clear that I'm not supposed to talk to him or to ask for an appointment with him, no matter what. I tried to set up a meeting when your friend bashed his head against the wall, but I've been told that it was just a side effect of his medication and that Mrs. Kaspbrak has been very clear about the fact that her son didn't need any kind of psychiatric treatment." 

Richie clearly remembered her words whispered in Eddie's ear, loud enough so that everyone else would hear it. How hateful she was when she said the terms "crazy" and "retarded". Richie hated these words so much. They were thrown at him and at his father way too often, and they always stung. Of course, this woman wouldn't want her son to see a therapist…

"I'm not even supposed to talk to you about that, but you seem to be his closest friend, and he could really use the help. I can't reach out to him, so I have to trust you on this, Richard." 

Richie nodded gravely. He might not like the guy, but if he could help Eddie in any way, Richie would just bury his hatred and listen to him… He knew that what was happening right now was clearly illegal, immoral, but he couldn't care less. As long as it would be helpful to Eddie...

"Have you ever watched the movie "Rain Man"?" 

Richie clearly didn't expect the discussion to go that way. He shook his head, confused, allowing the therapist to continue:

"It was released a few years ago, and I think it's supposed to be on television next week or so. It's about an autistic man and his brother. Do you know what autism is, Richie?" 

He didn't really know. He had heard the word before, though, a few times, when he was quite young. Before he was diagnosed as hyperactive, it was one of the diagnoses they thought could eventually fit. Richie didn't think about it before, but now that he heard the word…

"It's a disability, just like yours. Autistic people tend to be hypersensitive to light, noise, touch, and so on. They're not good in social settings, and some of them might even be unable to talk at all. They often seem to be in their little world, and it can be hard to reach out to them." 

Richie thought about Eddie. The way he clutched his ears when the school bell rang. How he jumped every time someone touched him without warning him first. How difficult it could be to talk for him sometimes, to the point that there were moments during which he couldn't even utter a single word.

"We're far from understanding what this condition really entails or where it's coming from. It doesn't seem curable either." 

Richie didn't care about that. He didn't want Eddie to be anyone else than Eddie. If Eddie was really autistic, then the Eddie he always knew was disabled from the beginning, and wishing for his autism to disappear would be… would be like wishing for Eddie to disappear as a whole. Richie would never want that. He accepted his own disability, he would accept Eddie's. And help him as much as he could.

"It can be hard to understand why an autistic person is acting the way they act. They might start to scream or hit themselves out of nowhere or laugh in situations where they're not supposed to." 

Richie remembered. He remembered every time Eddie would start to hurt himself. Sure, if he just looked at it without thinking much, it did seem to come out of nowhere. The way he suddenly ran to the bathroom to bash his head against the wall. How he would slap himself and scratch his skin and bite his fingers. But Richie knew better than that. And in some way, he could get it.

He knew the relief it could provide. A long time ago, he used to hurt himself too, when things were too much or not enough, when he didn't know how to release his pent-up energy healthily. But he got help from his parents, from his doctor, from lots of people and managed to deal with all of it in a better way. But Eddie didn't have any of that. And Richie needed to help him. Quickly.

"If you could convince Edward to ask for an appointment with me or even to participate in one of the support group meetings at school, I think it would really be helpful for him." 

The therapist didn't seem convinced by his second suggestion, but Richie couldn't care less. To be fair, he'd rather have Eddie take part with him in one of those meetings. Those who were here could just talk freely and know that they weren't judged. The adults there were only present to make sure that everything would go smoothly. It was a moment reserved for them who were young and troubled and desperately needed to talk. Nothing ever came out of these meetings. It was a mutual understanding, a silent agreement. What was said in the meetings stayed in the meetings.

It allowed Bill to talk about his brother. Bev to talk about his father. Stan to talk about his issues and his fears. Ben even talked about Henry Bowers and the nightmares he had for a while after his stomach was knifed. And Richie… Richie talked about his hyperactivity. His mom and the way she dealt with her problems, drinking too much. But never about the way he felt when he looked at Eddie. He couldn't.

"I'll try, Sir. I promise." 

Eddie needed help. And even if it had to come from this homophobic asshole, Richie was okay with it. As long as Eddie was cared for. As long as he could escape his mother's clutches.

*

Richie was exhausted when he came home. He tried once again to see Eddie, to no avail. His mom was decided to not allow anyone to see his "poor, sick, hurt, precious boy", even if Richie tried to bribe her by promising to bring Eddie his homework. Fuck… If she still refused the next day, he'll found a way to reach Eddie's room. He'd climb on the roof if he had to.

He was about to open his front door when he heard his mother screaming and stopped himself. He walked a bit, getting close to the open window that allowed him to listen to what was happening. He hated to hear his parents getting in an argument and was thinking about leaving for a while when he heard Eddie's name.

His heart skipped a beat and Richie hid under the window, listening to his parents.

"What was I supposed to do, Went? You don't know Sonia like I do, if I dared to say a single bad thing about the way she's raising Eddie, we would never be able to see him again! Richie could never see him again!" 

“But you’re encouraging her! You saw how he was when she was there, how he was when she wasn't! She… She's hurting him, and you told her that she was in the right! You told her that right in front of her son!" 

"I know what I did, okay? I know, I fucking know! I'm just trying to do my best, Went, sorry if it's not enough for your liking! You're not the one who has to… to smile constantly at her. Even when she's treating me like shit, insulting me, belittling me! How do you think I feel, Went? Do you think it's funny for me? Do you think I like it?" 

Richie had no idea that his mom was affected like that. He knew that Sonia could be complicated and… and that she was a fucking bitch, to be completely honest, but… but that she made his mom feel that way, it was… it was…

"So, yeah, big deal, I'm drinking! I think I earned a fucking drink, Went, after what you just told me!" 

"And you think it's going to help? You think it's going to help Eddie or Richie or…?" 

“I fucking know it doesn’t!”

Maggie slammed her hand on the table and Richie cringed. She drank too much. She was getting angry and nervous, and he hated to see her like that. He hated the fact that he couldn't help her, just like he couldn't help Eddie, just like he couldn't help Bill after Georgie's death. He was so useless…

"But for fuck's sake, Went, you're dropping that on me and, what, you expect me to take it well? To just smile and keep on being your perfect little housewife? Sorry for being drunk and an asshole, but you can't just tell me that Sonia _poisoned_ her son and expect me to..." 

Richie loudly gasped, unable to prevent himself from doing so. His parents immediately stopped arguing, Wentworth poking his head out of the window to look at Richie:

“You can come. It's okay. Your mom is going to spend some time in her room and calm herself down." 

Maggie let out a frustrated sigh, but she knew better than to argue. The anger was slowly dying down and, when Richie opened the front door and finally came home, he could see the shame painting her face, while she ran to her bedroom.

Richie felt some tears on his face, but he quickly wiped them, doing his best to stop himself from crying.

“Dad… You said… You said that Sonia poisoned… Eddie?" 

Richie was scared. He was so scared. Went shushed him, leading him to the couch, hugging him tightly:

"That's not what I said. I'm sorry you heard us talking about that this way. It's… It's more complicated than that." 

Wentworth explained everything to Richie. How he thought he recognized some of Eddie's medication and showed them to one of his colleagues. How this colleague told him that this combination would inevitably lead the person who was treated that way to his death. That it was impossible that anyone could take these meds for years and be alive and healthy like Eddie was.

"I went to see Mr. Keene, the pharmacist. At first, he didn't want to talk about it, telling me that it would be a breach of medical confidentiality, but I managed to make him talk. He told me that he was replacing Eddie's drugs with sugar pills and that his inhaler was a placebo as well. He did that for years, and he's still doing it." 

Went sighed deeply, brushing Richie’s hair:

"He's terrified of Sonia Kaspbrak, but he's not one to poison a kid. To tell you the truth, I don't even know if she's aware of that or if she really thinks that she's giving genuine medication to her son. Medication that could have killed him, if Mr. Keene didn't replace the pills..." 

Richie was stunned, having trouble believing what his father told him. It was just… It was just so crazy. Eddie… Eddie was never physically ill? He didn't have asthma or allergies or… or anything like that? All of this time, it was just… a lie?

“How… Eddie… How can we tell him that? How…?”

“I don’t know, Rich. And your mom doesn't either. She's worried sick, and she's lost. She's dealing with it the only way she knows, and it's not good. But you let me worry about that, okay? This is between us. It's going to be fine." 

Richie nodded, shaking slightly. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Eddie… How was he supposed to tell him that? How could he accept that his whole life was a lie? That he was not ill, that he was not sick… That he was just autistic and perfectly healthy, but that his mom straight-up lied to him all of these years. She could have killed him… Richie couldn't stop thinking about that, the idea that Eddie might be dead if Mr. Keene didn't…

“Fuck...”

And he started to cry once again, while his father was hugging him and comforting him the best he could. Eddie needed his help. He really needed his help. But… But could he really help him? Richie was just… Richie. And he was scared. He was so fucking scared...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, we progressed quite a lot in this chapter. Richie is in love with Eddie, learned about his disability and knows that his medicine is fake. So, what's he going to do about that? Suspens...
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter. To be honest, the therapist's character was quite difficult to write. I clearly hate him, but I also wanted to portray that he could help in some way. It's hard to write nuanced characters. 
> 
> Richie could really use some help to talk about his feelings and his little gay heart, but that seems quite complicated for now... I hope it's relatable. I tried to tap into some of my own feelings and the teenager I used to be, as a biromantic (possibly gay) asexual awkward girl that I was back then (none of that I knew or assume then). 
> 
> Also, Rain Man is absolutely NOT a good movie to introduce someone to autism, but it was considered "revolutionary" back then, so of course this therapist was going to talk about it to Richie. A lot of what he's saying is also clearly outdated and relies on a Neurotypical point of view, so I tried to portray in Richie's thoughts that for him, Eddie's behavior makes sense and that he's not just hurting himself for the sake of it and all. And of course, he didn't talk about stimming because, well, it was clearly a goal to suppress stimming back then (and it's still a goal for some) and to make the autistic person look "neurotypical" as much as possible.
> 
> Anyway, don't hesitate to leave a review or a comment, I'm always happy to read your thoughts.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Here's the 18th chapter of my fanfic. Gosh, I never thought I would write so much. I have to thank you for your support, it's thanks to you that I'm still motivated and inspired by this story!
> 
> I hope you'll like it! 
> 
> Here are the trigger warnings:
> 
> TW for ableism  
> TW for internalized ableism  
> TW for physical abuse  
> TW for r-word  
> TW for self-harm  
> TW for infantilization

Eddie wiggled his fingers slightly, taming that new and weird feeling. His mom finally realized that he hurt his wrist and he was now sporting a cast on his right arm. It felt heavy, scratchy and he didn’t like it at all. He could only hope that he would get rid of it as soon as possible. He was frustrated that he hurt his good hand, but he only had himself to blame for it and he knew it.  
  
His mom wasn't happy about the whole thing. She noticed his pain when she tried to lead him to the bathroom to wash him off from every bacterium he could have brought from the Tozier family's house, grabbing him by his wrist. Eddie had been unable to prevent himself from letting out a pained yelp, giving away his current physical state. She saw his broken watch and guessed accurately what happened.  
  
She kept blaming him while she drove him to the hospital, while he was examined, while they were taking care of his arm. Why are you so mean, Eddie bear? Why did you broke your watch? You need it to take your medicine at the right moment. She kept saying this kind of stuff repeatedly until Eddie felt awfully guilty for what he did and apologized profusely, begging for her forgiveness, begging for her affection.  
  
He was terrified that his mom might stop loving him. That she might think that he was not worthy of being her son. He needed her. He couldn't live without her. Who would take him to his medical appointments? Who would make sure that he was properly medicated? Who would dress him up and help him to eat when he couldn't do it on his own? That's what she whispered to his ear during many, many years and Eddie could only believe her, especially after what happened at Richie's house.  
  
He felt so… shameful. He didn't want them to witness that. To see him that way. Eddie had been… pathetic. Unable to talk. Unable to eat on his own. His mom helped him at every step and he let her do it, right in front of them. The more he thought about it, the less he was convinced that he could actually do all of this without help. He needed her. He needed his mom so badly and they all saw that. Maggie, Wentworth… and Richie. God, Richie must have thought that he was so pitiful. So stupid.  
  
Eddie blushed at the thought, curling up on his bed, scratching his face absentmindedly and hurting himself as he used to do more and more recently whenever he was getting anxious. He hadn't seen Richie since that day. It’s been a little bit more than a week and Eddie missed his friends so much. He pulled out his dad's old chessboard and played on his own from times to times, trying to imagine that Stanley was there, playing with him, teaching him a few strategies, and looking at him with this piercing stare that was his.  
  
But it just wasn't the same. Just like reading his comics felt boring and bland because Richie wasn't there to comment on them, making horrible voices and getting Eddie to laugh at his jokes and bad imitations. Eddie needed his friends. He wanted to be with them. He wanted to join them at the clubhouse, to bicker with Richie, to talk with Mike and Bill, to share his last book read with Ben, to push back his limits a bit more with Bev, always ready to corrupt him, while Stan was rolling his eyes at their antics.  
  
But he couldn't. He was stuck in his house, and no one was coming to see him. He spent most of his time in his room, the door closed, taking his medication dutifully, giving longing looks to the world beyond his window. He wanted to get out. He should be able to get out. Eddie could still walk and, as long as he didn't force on his right arm, he would heal just fine. But his mom didn't want him to do so. She said that he could get infected outside or at school. That it was better for him to stay at home with her. That she would take care of him, as she always did.  
  
And she was taking care of him. But from times to times, she seemed strangely distant. Eddie could see her looking at him with a weird gaze, that he was unable to properly decipher. She abruptly switched channels when she heard him coming downstairs, as if she was worried that he might see something that could potentially disturb him.  
  
He didn't know what to make of it, and it was getting to him. His mom never hid anything from him, and if she did, it must be something important. Eddie didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. But what could he say? If his mom didn't want him to know something, he shouldn't bother her with that. She might get angry. She might call him “Edward” with an angry tone and she could… she might slap him. Like she slapped him when he tried to tell her that Stan wasn't dirty.  
  
Eddie knew that he was in the right, but still. He was supposed to be a nice son, and nice sons didn't talk back to their moms. They knew better than that. He still remembered how much it stung, this slap. He put his left hand on his cheek as if he could still feel the pain. He felt so shameful, thinking about it. She never hit him before, and this time, she had to. But she still took care of him after that, bathing him, dressing him up, helping him eat, and giving him a goodnight kiss. She did all of these things for him, even though he had been a bad son. Eddie could only be grateful to his mom.  
  
He had to chase away his terrible thoughts. The way he started to get envious of Richie and his relationship with his parents. How he wished to stay with the Tozier family, to never come home after his sleepover. How he liked Maggie's touch on his skin, her hands cupping his face. It wasn't fair to his mom, who sacrificed so much for him. And besides, Maggie thought that he was properly educated, so his mom was in the right and he shouldn't want to leave her.  
  
Eddie rocked on his bed, his thoughts swirling in his head, trying to make sense of what was going on his mind. He was thinking about too many things, about Richie, about his friends, about Went and Maggie, about Mrs. Beckett and her advice to him… She wanted him to talk to a therapist, but therapists were for crazy and retarded people, and his mom didn't like either of them. She would hate him if he did that. If he admitted that he needed to talk to a therapist, that he was indeed crazy and/or retarded. That's what she told him. That's how she got him to shut up at Richie's house, when he started to hum nervously. And he needed her. He really needed her.  
  
Eddie didn't react immediately when he heard a strange sound at his window. He was plunged deep in his thoughts, away from the rest of the world, doing his best to order his messed up brain. He finally noticed it when the sound got bigger, startling him so much that he jumped and let out a tiny squeak. That's when he saw Richie. At his bedroom's window. On the first floor.  
  
Eddie got so anxious at the sight that he fumbled with his window, shaking too much to open it as easily as he usually did. He couldn't stop thinking about the idea that Richie might fall and break his leg or arm or split his skull and die. Because of him. Because he didn’t open the window quickly enough. He was wheezing when he finally managed to open the window, letting Richie in.  
  
He scrambled to get his inhaler out of his fanny pack, having trouble doing so with his left hand. He took a few puffs, noticing Richie’s strange look on him while he was doing so. Could people stop looking at him like that? It was getting on his nerves! First, his mom and now, Richie! For fuck’s sake…  
  
"What are you doing here, Richie? You realize that you could have fucking slipped from my roof and died? Can't you use the fucking door like a normal human being?"  
  
Richie rolled his eyes at his outburst, sitting on his bed and shaking his leg. Eddie sat beside him, still angry, but happy nevertheless to see him.  
  
"Your mom didn't let me in. I tried to come every day since she pulled you out of school. Everyone did. But she didn't let any of us in. Not even Ben and Ben is like the sweetest guy you could think of! If there's one of us that looks like the "perfect angel" that will never corrupt you, it's him! But yeah, I told myself that I would climb through your window if she still didn't let me in today. And she didn't, so here I am."  
  
Eddie couldn't believe that Richie would do something so stupid and dangerous just to see him. A part of him was alarmed and clearly worried. But on the other hand, he felt… something sweet, funny, not quite understandable, but clearly good. He asked himself if he would do something like that for Richie too, and the answer came to him immediately, without hesitation: yes, he would do something like that for him. Even if it might hurt him or kill him.  
  
Richie's fingers grazed his cast, and Eddie flinched. It didn't hurt, but it felt weird. He still had trouble adjusting to the thing, wanting so badly to take it off and being able to use his right hand like before.  
  
"Are you okay? Does it hurt?"  
  
Eddie shrugged, not really knowing how to answer to the first question.  
  
“It doesn’t hurt. It’s just weird. I don’t like it. I can’t write and I have to use my left hand for everything. I feel so fucking clumsy, you have no idea.”  
  
"Yeah, I kinda do. I bent and broke my poor arms and legs too many times, so yeah, I know the feeling. It sucks. But you'll be fine quickly, right? If they didn't keep you that long at the hospital, then you must be fine. You're stronger than you think you are, Eds."  
  
Richie was weird, in a way that Eddie couldn't quite pinpoint. The way he looked at him. How he seemed to hesitate to say something, retracting himself at the last minute. How he was touching his cast, almost obsessively. It was pissing him off and Eddie found himself getting irrationally angry, snapping at Richie:  
  
"So what, you're just here to play with my cast, or are you going to fucking say something? What, Richie, you want to tell me that you won't hang out with me anymore? That your parents don't want to see me anymore because I'm such a fucking burden? Go on, tell me, stop being so fucking weird!”  
  
Richie was clearly startled by his words. He stared at Eddie as if he couldn't quite recognize him, shaking his legs even more, seemingly at a loss for words. Fumbling with his glasses, he finally let out, looking at the ground:  
  
"That… That's not what I want to say to you! This sleepover, it was awesome, I really want to do that with you again. And my parents, they love you, I think they were ready to adopt you on the spot. I swear, Eds!"  
  
Ready to adopt him… In spite of himself, Eddie started to linger on this thought. He imagined himself living with the Toziers, getting his place in Richie’s family. No more medication. No more bland food. He could get out, ride a bike, go to Mike's farm, swim at the quarry, and…  
  
No. No, no, no, no. He didn't have the right to think that. It was mean. Mean, mean, mean, mean. His mom deserved better from him. Why couldn't he be a good son? Why was he so selfish, so bad, when she sacrificed everything for him, every day, every hour, every minute? Mean. He was so mean. Mean, mean, mean, mean…  
  
Eddie didn't realize that he started to hit himself once again. He was slapping his left temple harshly, grunting, wheezing, and humming nervously, only stopping when Richie hugged him tightly, shushing him and whispering calming words to his ear. Eddie let himself melt in the contact, while Richie was rocking him slowly, doing his best to calm him down.  
  
Eddie felt ashamed. Normal teenagers weren't supposed to do that. Richie shouldn't have to treat him that way, to see him behaving that way. He whispered a quiet "sorry", flushed, embarrassed. Richie shook his head at his word, brushing his hair:  
  
"Don't apologize, Eds. If you have to, apologize to yourself. You're the one who's hurt and who's hurting himself. I hate to see you like that, but you shouldn't focus on how I'm feeling about this. Focus on yourself and take care, Eddie. That's all that matters."  
  
Eddie nodded, even though he wasn't sure he properly understood what Richie meant. Of course, he had to apologize to him! He wasn't crazy or retarded, so there was no reason for him to hit himself like that. And he forced Richie to comfort him and to hug him and surely, Richie had better things to do than that, right? He deserved better from him. Eddie knew it. Just like his mom deserved better from her son.  
  
But he didn't say anything. He allowed Richie to rock him and hug him, loving the feeling. His nervous humming turned into a happy one, his lips stretching slowly into a smile while Richie was taking care of him. But they couldn't stay like that forever, and the hug finally stopped. Eddie missed Richie's arms around him as soon as this feeling was gone. He hugged himself reflexively, rocking slightly on his bed.  
  
Richie looked at him thoughtfully, offering a smile, before turning away his gaze. Eddie heard him mumbling, in a nervous voice:  
  
"How am I supposed to tell you that?"  
  
“Tell me what?”  
  
Richie raised his head, letting out a curse. Visibly, he didn't intend to say that out loud. But he did, and it was too late. Eddie wanted to know. And he wouldn't let him change the subject. No matter what.  
  
Richie squirmed, but he smiled once again, a cheeky smile:  
  
"That I'm marrying your mom tomorrow, after a sweet night of cuddles, that's what..."  
  
“No!”  
  
Eddie almost screamed and turned his head towards his bedroom's door. But his mom was still watching her show, and she probably didn't hear him. She wasn't coming anyway. He let out a sigh, before pursuing his objection.  
  
"No. You don't get to joke and talk about something else. I'm not stupid, and I hate that you're treating me that way! There's something you want to tell me, and you're not! Stop hiding things from me!"  
  
Eddie was angrily flapping his hands, unable to stop himself from doing so. He wanted to scream, and he couldn't. A part of him wanted to hit something, maybe even Richie, but he wouldn't, because that would be awful, because he wasn't like that, because… because Richie didn’t deserve it, no matter how pissed off Eddie was.  
  
"Friends don't lie to each other! First, my mom and now you! What's the matter with you two? My mom never lied to me either, but she's acting weird and..."  
  
Richie snorted at his words, getting pale when he realized what he had done. And Eddie got angry. Way angrier than he was before.  
  
“Are you mocking me?”  
  
Richie made himself look small, visibly embarrassed:  
  
“No, Eds, I swear, I...”  
  
"You're laughing at me! You're mocking me, like Bowers, like everyone else! You're pretending that you like me, but you just think that I'm stupid and that I'm a mama's boy! I bet you told to the Losers what happened at your house and that you all laughed at me! You laughed because I’m stupid and sick and I need my mommy to help me!”  
  
“Eds, please, listen to…!”  
  
"No, no, no! I hate you! I hate all of you! And I hate myself! I never asked to be sick! Mommy is doing everything for me and I’m still sick! I'm stupid, and I'm a bad son and a bad friend! I hate you!"  
  
Eddie didn't know what he was saying anymore. He was so… so angry. At Richie. At his friends. At his mom. But mostly at himself. He let out a violent screech and started to hit his cast against the wall, pulling his hair with his other hand. Richie tried to stop him, but the noise that Eddie made finally got his mom's attention and he had no other choice than to hide under the bed, praying that Eddie wouldn't give away his presence.  
  
Not that Eddie seemed able to utter a single comprehensible word anyway. He was screaming and crying and screeching, hurting himself, unable to process his feelings. He couldn't stop himself, couldn't calm himself down. His mom finally entered the room, calling him to get his attention, urging him to stop, to no avail.  
  
Suddenly, Eddie felt himself pinned to the ground. He groaned painfully, squirming against his mother's grip, her hand on his head, the other forcing his casted arm to stay still. He tried to get away, but she put her knee on his other arm, putting her weight on his frail body, preventing him from moving. His gaze was stuck on Richie, a look that screamed for help. But Richie couldn't do a single thing. He could just hide and wait for it to be over, for Eddie's mom to get out.  
  
Eddie struggled and whined until he exhausted himself, sweating profusely, breathing heavily. He stopped thrashing around, and his mom helped him to get up, whispering sweet words to his ear:  
  
“Shh, Shh, Eddie bear. Mommy is there. Mommy will always be there. Shh...”  
  
Eddie was exhausted. His whole body hurt, in ways he couldn't describe. He was calm again, because he had no other choice than to be that way. He leaned against his mom, who dragged him to the bathroom and took care of him like she always did.  
  
Eddie barely moved while she washed him carefully, making sure that his cast wasn't getting wet. He put his fingers between his lips, biting and sucking on them, and his mom didn't stop him. His thoughts were drowning in a sea of pure confusion. He could barely keep his eyes open, his eyelids flickering more and more while his mother was taking care of him.  
  
He must have started to sleep at some point because he suddenly found himself in his bed, under his blanket. He squirmed slightly, letting out a whine, getting quiet when he felt his mom’s hand on his hair:  
  
“Mommy’s here, Eddie bear. Mommy’s here. You only need me. You’re sick and fragile and you need me.”  
  
Eddie nodded slightly, getting more and more sleepy and struggling to stay awake and hear his mom's words. He could hear her say a few more words, something about her being brave for her precious son before he finally drifted off to sleep. He felt his mom tucking his old teddy bear, the one his father bought for him a long time ago, and that he took away with him at Richie's sleepover, under his left arm. He hugged it reflexively, curling up on the bed.  
  
At this moment, he totally forgot that Richie was there. He didn't realize that his friend didn't leave. That he was brushing his hair and keeping him from hurting himself in his sleep, Eddie trying subconsciously to bite his fingers.  
  
No, Eddie didn't realize any of that. Not until he finally woke up, a few hours later, exhausted. It was getting late, and he certainly didn't expect Richie to be here, watching over him with an almost tender look. Eddie whispered Richie's name and his friend shushed him, while still brushing his hair:  
  
"Don't exhaust yourself, Eds. Don't talk if you're too tired to do so. It's okay."  
  
But Eddie wanted to talk. He started to realize what happened, what Richie saw, and… and it wasn't good. It wasn't good at all. He saw the way he acted, how his mother had to pin him to the ground to get him to calm down. Which wasn't something Eddie ever experienced before. He didn't understand why his mom acted that way, but that didn't matter. She did what she had to do and he knew it. After all, he was sick and fragile and she was brave and nice for taking care of him like that during all these years.  
  
And Richie was also seeing him hugging his plush like that, as if he was still a fucking kid. Eddie blushed and quickly got rid of the teddy bear, awfully embarrassed. They would laugh at that too. They would mock him for that too and they would be right, because Eddie was stupid and immature. He didn't deserve to have friends. He didn’t deserve to have a mommy as brave and devoted as his mother was.  
  
A hand on his. Eddie needed a few seconds to realize that he was biting his fingers and that Richie prevented him from doing so, holding his hand in his. Eddie felt disgusted at the idea that Richie was in contact with his saliva and tried to let him know, but Richie shook his head:

"It's just saliva, it's no big deal. If it helps you feel better, then it's worth it."  
  
Richie smiled, and Eddie felt shameful. His friend was there for him. He waited for him to wake up, he took care of him and Eddie… Eddie truly thought that he was lying to him and mocking him behind his back. Eddie was the worst. Truly, he was.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be. You were right. I… I had something to say to you. And I didn't know how."  
  
Richie seemed awkward, unsure of himself. Eddie stayed silent, in spite of his anxiety, waiting for him to say something. Anything.  
  
"I… uh… I..."  
  
Richie bit his lips, took a deep breath and finally said quickly, so quickly that Eddie barely understood him:  
  
"I think you should see the school therapist. Or go to a support meeting group at least once. I'll… I'll go with you. If you want to."  
  
Eddie thought about Mrs. Beckett's advice. He thought about his outbursts, his anger issues, the way he was constantly hurting himself. Maybe it would help… But he heard his mom's voice in his ear, whispering to him that she didn't like crazy and retarded people and that she would take him out of school if he acted like one. And Eddie always listened to his mom. Always.  
  
"That's what you wanted to tell me, Richie? Just that?"  
  
Richie raised an eyebrow, seemed to hesitate, before nodding slightly. Eddie looked at him quietly for a few seconds, before shaking his head:  
  
"I don't need that. I don't. And I never will."  
  
"But..."  
  
Eddie gave him a nasty look, and Richie shut up. He sighed, fumbling with his glasses, before offering as a gesture of a peace:  
  
"Want to read some comics? I brought you some of my new ones."  
  
Eddie nodded, and Richie smiled, settling on the bed next to him. He pulled out his comics and they started to read together, until Eddie got too tired to follow what was happening. His head was bobbing up and down, his eyelids fluttering slowly. He was still exhausted after what happened with his mom. Exhausted and sore.  
  
"I'll let you get some rest. I have to go home. I'll come back soon, I promise."  
  
"Richie..."  
  
Richie was about to go out the window when Eddie called him softly. He came back next to him instantly, offering him a smile:  
  
"Yes, Eds?"  
  
Eddie bit his lips and said slowly, fighting sleep as much as possible:  
  
"… 'Am sorry… don't… don't give up… on me… Ri...”  
  
Eddie couldn't finish his sentence, losing his battle and finally succumbing to sleep. He didn't feel Richie's lips brushing his forehead. He didn't hear him say that he would never give up on him. That he loved him dearly. No, he didn't feel or hear any of that. He just… dreamed. Dreamed of Richie. Of his friends. Of his family. A dream and a nightmare mixed together, confusing him like the rest of his life was perplexing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Richie tried, but Eddie's not really ready yet... Maybe later? 
> 
> As for what Sonia did... Yeah, it's clearly abuse. I've read a book a while ago about a mom who pinned her autistic teenager to the ground when he had a meltdown at a mall and she thought of herself as some kind of hero (neurotypicals around her as well), but she never thought that she was hurting her son and that she could just get him away from what caused the meltdown (probably all the noise and lights in the mall). That's just... awful.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for still being here. I hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to comment and/or leave kudos if you can, I'm still glad when I can read you!
> 
> Apparently, guests' hits are not counted anymore, so if you like this fanfic, don't hesitate to leave a comment, even if it's just one or a few words, to let me know that you're still here. 
> 
> Have a great day!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! God, already the 19th chapter, how is it possible? It's all thanks to you, you're keeping me motivated as hell to write this fanfic!
> 
> I hope you'll like this chapter. Richie's POV, once again! 
> 
> Here are the trigger warnings for this chapter :
> 
> TW for ableism  
> TW for mention of a suicide attempt  
> TW for mention of abuse  
> TW for self-harm

It was weird how quickly Eddie found his place among the Losers. Their group had always been quite closed, not very welcoming for any newcomer. They all experienced pain, suffering, hardships that they had to overcome. They all brought something unique to the group, something essential.  
  
Bill was their leader, calm and collected, bright and brave, the one they would all follow everywhere no matter what. Even after Georgie's death, he tried so hard to stay strong, inflexible, until they finally managed to make him talk and cry and process the fact that his little brother wouldn't be there anymore.  
  
Mike was no stranger to that. The kind teenager was always doing everything he could to make sure that everyone was okay. He was easy to talk to, seemed to know instinctively when he had to speak, and when he had to listen to those who would confide in him. He was loyal to a fault, ready to drop everything to be there for his friends.  
  
Beverly was the fire and the strength of their group. They all kinda fell in love with her at some point, even though Richie would qualify his feelings as strictly platonic. She was bright like the sun, and she was always the first to take a step, to dive into danger, to risk everything, and to make it look like it was easy. She was the first of them to have jumped from the cliff at the quarry. If she hadn't, none of them would have.  
  
And there was Ben, quiet Ben, shy Ben, who turned into a lion as soon as his friends were in danger. His smile was so contagious, spreading across the group as soon as they would see him stretching his lips. He was passionate in a profound way and Richie, as agitated as he could be, often found himself just listening to him talking about books and poetry. It was… calming.  
  
And Stan. Stanley. Stan the Man. With his wits and his humor so dry that he could literally turn an ocean into a desert. He was the voice of reason, the one who managed to keep them alive and prevent them from self-destruction. He wasn't the bravest, but he was there for them despite his fear. He saw what no one else saw, and he always seemed to know what to say and when to say it.  
  
And Richie, in all of that? Richie was a clown. A fucking clown, who did his best to make them laugh when they needed to. Who hid behind his jokes and always took it a step too far, sometimes for the best, but more often for the worst. He cared too much and he didn’t know how to help. Richie was just… too much. But somehow, he had his place in the group. Among them.  
  
He thought that their group would just stay like that, the six of them, but then came Eddie. Or, rather, Richie came to Eddie, after so many trials and failures. And Eddie found his slot, his place among the Losers.  
  
He was a weird, fast-talking gremlin, obsessed by health, frank in an almost alarming way. Richie loved their conversations, how Eddie always reacted to his jokes, whether by an eye-roll or laughing and snorting in his cute, Eddie-like way. Eddie cared so much about them, about all of them. Richie was baffled that his friend couldn't see how much they cared about him as well. How awesome he was.  
  
He missed him. He missed him so much. If he was there, Eddie would be playing chess with Stan, snapping every time that Richie would try to distract him. Or they'd be both in the hammock, Richie trying very hard to focus on his comic book and pretending to not feel Eddie's skin against his, joking and annoying him as much as he could because that's how they functioned, that's what they always did.  
  
But Eddie wasn't there. Eddie was at home with his mother. Fuck, his mother… Richie couldn't stop thinking about what happened the day before. How she just… tackled her son against the ground, hurting him, putting her full body weight on him to force him to calm down. The fear in his eyes… How he silently screamed for his help…  
  
Richie should have done something. Anything. But he didn't. Maybe it was for the best. Mrs Kaspbrak would have chased him from her house, in the best case. Or she would have called the police and Richie would have been in deep shit. But he couldn't help thinking that he had been a coward. Because yes, Mrs. K. scared him. She scared him viscerally, in a way that he couldn't quite explain.  
  
He failed to help him back then, and it was his fault if that happened in the first place. He should have been able to find the right words, instead of feeding Eddie's doubts and self-hatred. Fuck… Why was he so bad at this stuff? Eddie shouldn't have to go through any of that. Why couldn't he just be happy? Why everything couldn't just be simple and nice for once?  
  
“Richie?”  
  
Richie jumped, startled. He almost fell from the hammock, but he didn't. Mike called out to him, with a worried expression on his face. They could all see that something was wrong with him. He didn't find the heart to talk and joke as usual, unable to hide behind his humor and wits. Instead, he just laid down in the hammock, thoughts focused on Eddie and what he should or shouldn't do, what he should or shouldn't say.  
  
"Richie? Are you okay? You can talk to us, you know. We're all there for you."   
  
Richie gave a weak smile to Mike, straightening up, sitting on the hammock. His feet were grazing the ground in a nervous move, while he hesitated. Should he tell them? Should he tell them about Eddie? About his diagnosis? About his medication? About his mom? Fuck. Richie had no idea. They probably knew a bit, guessing from Eddie's delirious cries for help when he smoked a joint and from what they knew of Mrs Kaspbrak.  
  
He didn't want to break Eddie's trust. Everyone seemed to think that his right to privacy was nothing more than a joke, spilling out the beans about his physical and mental condition to everyone who might listen. Richie shouldn't have heard any of this, and yet, he did. And it was… it was so fucking heavy to bear.  
  
Fuck… He was just a teenager. An awkward, weird, gangly teenager with too much on his mind. He had to talk. He had to say something. He would apologize to Eddie later. They had to know. Richie needed their help. Their support. Everything they could give and do to help Eddie out of this awful situation that was his for so long…  
  
Richie took a deep breath. And he spoke. Spoke. Spoke. He talked about Eddie's behavior at their sleepover, about what his therapist and his father told Richie about his friend, about Mrs Kaspbrak and how she treated her son. When Richie told this part of the story, Beverly had to excuse herself, shaking slightly, her cheeks and eyes red. Ben ran after her, helping her to calm down.  
  
Richie hated to do that to her. Her father was in jail for the horrid abuse he made her go through, and she was still healing, learning to accept and move on from her past. He didn't want to be the one to remind her of all of that, but he had to say something. He was going to explode if he didn't. He needed them. He needed their support.  
  
When she came back, Beverly asked him to keep talking, to not omit a single detail. There was something determined in her look. A fire that would burn everything that would stand in her way. So, Richie kept talking. When he finally stopped, he felt a huge weight lifting from his shoulders, and nervous tears rolled on his cheeks.  
  
They all surrounded him, a tender embrace, full of a love that could barely be described. Richie couldn't stop crying, shaking and sobbing. Sniffling, he finally managed to calm himself down, trying to lighten up the mood:  
  
"S… Stop being so sappy, guys. I feel like we're wrapping up a meeting of Alcoholics anonymous and, trust me, I'm not ready to stop drinking any time soon."   
  
Some of them giggled nervously. It wasn't his best joke and, Richie had to admit, he always thought about his mom when he joked about this kind of stuff. But if he didn’t, he would start to cry and he needed to distance himself from that. He couldn't help her. All he could do was to stay strong and keep moving on. No matter what.  
  
They all took a step back, processing this whole infodumping as best as they could. Stan was deep in thought, lips moving silently, tapping his fingers against his knees in a methodical rhythm. Bill was pacing in the clubhouse, whispering things under his breath to an attentive Mike, who followed him everywhere he went. And Ben held Beverly's hand while she was trying to keep her cool, looking at Richie.  
  
She was the first one to talk, voice laced with determination:  
  
"And now, what are we going to do? We can't let Eddie suffer through this any longer."   
  
Richie sighed:  
  
"It would be easier if Eddie realized that his mom was bad for him. I think he starts to kinda see it, even if he doesn't want to recognize it. She… She makes him think that he needs her and he believes it.”  
  
"Typical." Beverly spat angrily. "That's how they proceed. They make you think that you can't survive on your own, that you'll always need them, and that they know what's best for you. Then, they take everything they want from you, hurt you, and break you… they..."   
  
She was at a loss for words, getting close to a panic attack. Ben pressed her hand in his, going for a hug. She gripped him like he was her lifeline, and he held her close. Looking at them, Richie could only think about Eddie, how he hugged him, how he did his best to appease him.  
  
How was he doing? Was he okay? Richie wanted to see him, but he didn't want Mrs Kaspbrak to spot him climbing on her roof. It was the weekend, a neighbor could notice him and warn her. He'll come back during the night. Eddie needed him.  
  
"We n-n-need to tell him about his m… about his m…"   
  
Bill was agitated. He couldn't get the last word out of his throat and was getting frustrated. Since Georgie's death, his stutter had worsened and, stressed like he was, talking seemed just impossible. Mike put his hand on his shoulder, massaging it slightly, doing his best to help him relax. Bill took a deep breath and managed to finish his thought:  
  
“M-Medication. When he’ll know, he… he… he’ll stop th-th-thinking that he’s sick and that he nuh-nuh… needs her.”  
  
"I wish it was that simple," Richie said sadly. "I don't even know how he'll react. Eddie always thought that he was ill, and he's reaching for his inhaler every time he starts to feel slightly anxious. I don't even know if he'll believe us. You didn't see how he became withdrawn as soon as I suggested him to go to the therapist or our support group. He..."   
  
Richie sighed. He couldn't stay in the hammock any longer. He got up and started to pace in the clubhouse, fiddling with his glasses:  
  
"His mom brainwashed him. He's terrified at the idea that he could be anything but normal. That's how she's controlling him. She's making him think that every single one of his autistic traits is bad and worthy of punishment, that she's going to give up on him if he dares to be anything but her perfect, fragile son."   
  
"So, he needs to accept his disability first, right?"   
  
Stan was still tapping his knees, but he finally got out of his thoughts, taking part in the conversation that they were having:  
  
"We have to do everything we can to let him know that he's fine just the way he is. That we don't care if he's humming or flapping his hands or bouncing on his feet, that he can do whatever the fuck he wants and that he's not going to lose us over that."   
  
"But I'm telling him that! I keep telling him that it's okay!" Richie said with frustration, protesting loudly. "I'm more than okay with how he's expressing himself, I l… I like him because he is what he is! He’s my friend and he’s weird and we’re all weird and I’m okay with that! I keep telling him, again, and again!"   
  
Richie bit his lips, avoiding Stan’s gaze. He almost betrayed himself, in his anger, in his frustration. He couldn’t let them know. Never. He had to keep his feelings buried deeply, never to let them out. He would lose them all. His friends. Eddie.  
  
"And you have to keep telling him. Again and again and again. Because his mom will tell him otherwise and because he's going to believe her over you or any of us, especially if we don't keep reassuring him. I know that. You know that, Richie. If you weren't there for me, if you weren't there to tell me that I'm okay, I'd only have my father and I… I..."   
  
Stan scratched his legs nervously, and they all fell silent. Richie couldn't forget. He couldn't forget what Stan almost did, what he stopped him from doing. He was too young to think of dying, they were all too young and yet… Yet, he found Stanley in his bathroom, a razor in his hand, contemplating cutting his wrists.  
  
It's been four years since then, but the image was still planted in his mind, how he tackled him to the ground, how hysterical Stan suddenly had been, when he was so collected usually. How he screamed that he was the worst, that his father was right, that he should just die because he'll keep suffering, he'll always be crazy, no matter what.  
  
Richie didn't know what to do, so he guided him to his room, pulled out one of Stan's bird books and started to read the names to him, while comforting him the best he could. He knew that he managed to get through him when Stan, between his sobs, corrected him on his pronunciation.  
  
For a while, Richie kept worrying, like he worried about Bill after Georgie's death, like he worried about Eddie after his self-harm episode. Stan didn't hesitate to give him shit for that, and he stopped quickly, not wanting to lose his best friend over that. Richie couldn't imagine going through that again. Could Eddie try to kill himself? Richie wanted to think that it wasn't the case, but… but maybe he could.  
  
Fuck… He couldn't think about that. He needed to focus on the current situation and the current problems and not those that might appear later. Richie took a deep breath, once again. Calm. Calm. Calm.  
  
"Okay, so we have to keep supporting Eddie and we need him to trust us enough to believe us when we'll talk to him about his meds. But Eddie is currently stuck in his house, and his mom is never going to let us see him. I don't think I can convince him alone and especially not when his mom is around. We can't all climb on his roof and pass through his window to see him, it would be too visible. So what are we going to do?"   
  
They all thought about the situation as best as they could. Ben was the first one to talk, suggesting shyly:  
  
"We… We'll bring him here. I guess. His mom is working during the week, right? We'll just have to, hmm, ditch school and bring him here and tell him everything. I… I suppose."   
  
Beverly smiled at him, ruffling his hair, laughing at how red he suddenly was:  
  
"Benny boy wants to ditch school now? My, my, there's a bad boy hiding behind this cute angel..."   
  
“I… I’m not… I just…”  
  
He was getting flushed and embarrassed, unable to retort to Beverly's clear attempt at flirting. Mike was nice enough to save him, when, in spite of the situation, Richie was deeply amused by Ben's shy demeanor.  
  
"That's a good idea, Ben. I can't promise that I'll be there, but I'll try to negotiate that with my grandparents. They can deal with the farm without me for a few hours..."   
  
Richie nodded, a weak smile on his lips:  
  
"Eddie likes the clubhouse. He feels safe here. If he's not afraid that his mom might hear him or us, it'll be easier to talk to him. We just have to convince him to leave his house for a while. Honestly, I'm starting to think that he never left his home on his own, especially not behind his mom's back. Can you imagine?"   
  
Richie couldn't. He loved the freedom that his parents gave him, how he could just take his bike and ride for hours, as long as he came back at reasonable hours and kept having good grades. He was proud that he earned their trust and they treated him like the teenager he was, which he appreciated.  
  
But Eddie's mom… He couldn't even say that she was treating her son like a baby because no sensible person would ever treat their baby the way she was treating Eddie. No, he was… he was her puppet, her doll. She bathed him, dressed him up, did what she had to, in order to make sure he behaved in the way she wanted him to behave. She was the puppeteer, and they needed to cut her threads, to free Eddie from her fucked up love, if he could even call what she was feeling like that.  
  
Eddie never walked in this world without her support. What would happen when he had to stop relying on her? Would Richie be enough to help him? Would his friends be enough to guide him? Richie hoped so. He'll do everything he can to make sure that Eddie was safe and sound, that he could finally start living.  
  
“Okay, I’ll go look for him first thing in the morning next Monday. We’ll meet there and we… we’ll figure out what to do, okay?”  
  
It's not like they could really rehearse what they were going to say. They didn't even know how Eddie would react. Should they talk about his diagnosis first? The fact that he was never ill in the first place and didn't need any of his meds? That his mom was clearly abusing him and that he needed to talk to an adult about it? Fuck… This was so complicated. So delicate. Too much. Too much.  
  
Richie bit his lower lip. He closed his eyes, hitting his head against the wall. He could understand why Eddie was doing that so often, especially with everything he was going through. It was a short-term relief, the physical pain, chasing away the mental pain for a little while…  
  
“You’re okay, Richie?”  
  
Richie opened his eyes, looking at Stan. He shrugged, not really knowing what to say. He wasn't okay. But he could be worse. He was just trying to deal with that as much as possible, evacuating his feelings, so that he could be calm and composed when he'll have to be there for Eddie. He didn't want to ruin everything because he was too stressed out by the whole situation.  
  
"Eddie is our friend too, Richie. You don't have to bear this weight all alone, you know that, right?"   
  
"Yeah." Richie smiled slightly. "That's why I came to you. I wasn't sure I should talk about it, but..."   
  
"You did the right thing. I mean, if Derry was not the fucked up town that it is, Eddie would have been taken away from his monster of a mom a while ago. He would be with a caring family, people that could help him to deal with his issues and his disability and we wouldn't have to… to try to be heroes, therapists, friends and social workers all at the same time."   
  
Richie had a laugh, while Stan rolled his eyes:  
  
“Yeah, when you’re saying it that way, Stan, that’s fucked up.”  
  
“It’s fucked up no matter how I’m saying it.”  
  
Stan hesitated, before offering to Richie with a nervous tone, so unlike him:  
  
"You know, I… I can spend the night with you. Keep you company and all. If your parents are fine with that, of course. My father won't be, but he's going to be fed up with me anyway, when he'll know that I ditched school, so I might as well start to anger him right now."   
  
Richie knew how Stan was frightened by his father. That he was willing to oppose him like that just to make sure that he was okay…  
  
"Fuck, I don't know what I did to deserve you all, guys. You're the best, and I'm just a..." 

"Beep beep Richie!" Bill was the one who interrupted him, without any hesitation. "You're a Lo… a Loser j-just like us."   
  
"Yeah, and we all love you, Richie," Beverly added with a warm voice. "Sure, you can be annoying as hell…"   
  
"Hey!"   
  
"And your imitations could really be better..." Ben supplied with a cheeky smile.  
  
"Not you, Benny boy!"   
  
"And your jokes are definitely not as funny as you think they are..."   
  
“E tu, Brute? Mike, not you!"   
  
"But you're our friend, Richie."   
  
Stan put his hand on Richie's shoulder, looking at him with a gaze filled with affection.  
  
“You’re our friend and we’re here for you. Just like you're here for us. Just like we're going to be here for Eddie."   
  
Richie looked at him, looked at all of us with his eyes full of love, disbelief, surprise. He still had some trouble believing that he earned their affection, their friendship. That they really wanted someone like him as a friend. A tiny part of his heart longed for him to tell them the truth. To trust them with his secret and reveal to them the real Richie, in his entirety.  
  
But he couldn't. No matter how much he wanted them to know… He couldn't.  
  
So, he buried this feeling deep inside his heart, hiding it behind yet another joke. He had to stop being so selfish, so weak. Eddie needed him. He had to be strong for him. He had to be there for him. Eddie needed him.  
  
And fuck he really needed Eddie as well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a new chapter without Eddie in it, that feels so weird! But I'm glad I got to talk about the Losers and my headcanons about them, I feel like they earned their spot in this chapter.
> 
> Next chapter is all of them coming to Eddie's rescue! Will they succeed? Suspens...
> 
> As always, don't hesitate to leave kudos and reviews. Even if it's just to say a few words, it really helps to fuel my motivation and my inspiration!
> 
> See you soon!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And boom, there it is, chapter 20! We're getting closer to the end of the 1st volume of this fanfiction. I'm so glad to see you're still there, all of you! I hope you'll like this chapter as well. Thank you for your comments and kudos!
> 
> Here are the TW:
> 
> TW for self-harm  
> TW for anti-semitism  
> TW for physical abuse  
> TW for ableism  
> TW for internalized ableism  
> TW for r-word

Every day seemed to stretch infinitely, making it look like Eddie was crawling slowly through Hell. A whole week had passed since his sleepover with Richie, since he found himself stuck at home once again, his right arm trapped in a cast. Even though Richie came to see him, climbing through Eddie's window like the reckless idiot that he was, it didn't feel enough.  
  
Eddie had been used to spend most of his time with his friends, whether at school, at the clubhouse or at the quarry. He missed those moments. He felt so alone here, despite his mother's presence. During the weekend, she stayed at home and he was with her almost at every moment of the day, sitting next to her in front of the TV screen, waiting for her hands to brush his hair, to caress his skin.  
  
He couldn't stop thinking about how she just tackled him to the ground when he had one of his "episodes". He had felt her whole weight on his tiny body, crushing him, suffocating him. Her hand on his head had been so brutal, planting his face against the floor. For him, that was the worst. Not how long it had lasted. Not how painful it had been. No.  
  
Her hand on his head, as if she could literally crush his brain between her cold fingers. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. But his mom told him that she had no choice, that she had to calm him down and that he wouldn't listen. And he believed her. Because his mom was right. She was always right, in spite of the small voice in his head that was trying to tell him otherwise. She was right, she was right, she was right.  
  
Eddie didn't want to see her like that ever again. So, he'd been particularly nice and quiet, staying by her side. He needed her. He needed to feel her gentle touch again, the way she would care for him when he was a good son, the way she would make him feel that he was loved and that she would never give up on him. He just needed to be nice. To be the son she wanted him to be. Quiet. Polite. Obedient. And certainly not crazy or retarded. That was for sure.  
  
Eddie hadn't seen Richie this weekend after he came to visit him. He kept his window slightly open during the night, but to no avail. It was probably better that way, Richie could have fallen and broken his legs or something. But he really wanted to see his friend. He missed Richie. He missed him so much, even though he was still worrying too much about him, even though he had this weird idea that Eddie should see a therapist.  
  
Eddie curled up slightly at the idea, feeling nervous. His head was resting on his mother's lap while they were sitting on the couch, watching some kind of boring emission that he couldn't care less about. His mother was gently caressing his hair with one hand, using her other arm to keep him close to her. He wasn't usually one to cuddle, but he knew that his mom loved that and he wanted to please her. He wanted her to be happy and to touch him in a way that wasn't so violent, so brutal.  
  
Eddie knew that if he tried to talk to her about it, she would push him away. Maybe he'd get punished. Locked in his room, his comics taken away from him, with no possible outlet, nothing to keep him busy. Alone with his thoughts.  
  
She might force him to eat stuff that he couldn't handle as well. She would tell him that it was for his own good, but Eddie knew better. His mom could see how he would gag at the taste, the texture, forcing it down his throat, waiting for an apology, a promise that he would be a nice boy. He almost gagged, thinking about the last time he had endured this punishment, as if he could still feel the nauseous texture of the avocado that she forced him to eat.  
  
His mom shushed him gently, prying her eyes away from the tv screen to look at him:  
  
“Are you sick, Eddie Bear? Mommy’s going to take care of you.”  
  
"I'm… I'm fine, Mom. I swear. Can we just… stay like that? You and me?"   
  
He didn't want her to think that he was ill. He would never leave his house if it was the case. He didn't want to take more meds, to feel sleepy and drowsy, spending all of his time in his bed. He didn’t want to be alone in his bedroom, with his thoughts, his fears and his nightmares. Eddie was so scared to feel lonely…  
  
She gave him a smile, a sickening, sweet smile, and kept brushing his hair. Eddie sighed slowly, leaning into the touch. He couldn't deny that her way of loving him was hurtful. He didn't feel like a 15 years old teenager when he was with her, when she talked to him, when she touched him. He felt like a fragile kid and maybe that was all he was. All he would ever be. His mom's Eddie Bear.  
  
It hurt, but that was the only way she would love him. The only way she would give him attention and take care of him, making him feel that he mattered to her. The only way he would be sure that she'll always be there for him. Because his friends wouldn’t be. His mother told him so, again and again. They would leave Derry. Go to college. Make new friends. Forget all about him.  
  
Eddie wouldn't be able to follow them. He needed to stay with his mom. They wouldn't take care of him the way she was. They'd get bored, annoyed by his fragility, by his sensitivity. They wouldn’t help him when he needed so. They'd rather enjoy their "decadent life" than to take care of their ill friend with whom they could never have fun. And Eddie would be all alone. He would live on his own. Die without anyone by his side.  
  
But his mom would be there. His mom would cook for him, talk to him, help him get dressed, and keep the nightmares away. She would make him feel loved. Because that’s how his mommy was. She was brave, full of love, and everything a boy could ever dream of as a mother. Eddie just needed to be a nice son. To do his best to please her. She deserved it.  
  
He had no right to wish otherwise. Not after everything she had done for him. Eddie would enjoy the time he was having with his friends… and then, he'll say goodbye. He'll watch them go, one by one, staying at his mother's house, never forgetting them. He'd think about them, every single one of them, while living their lives freely, healthily, happily. Like he never could.  
  
Eddie didn't realize right away that he was sobbing. His mom's fingers caught one of his tears, wiping his face. She whispered sweet words to his ears, helping him up:  
  
"Shh… You're too tired, Eddie bear. Mommy’s going to put you to bed. I'll stay with you until you're asleep. I'll take care of you. You need me."   
  
He didn't try to protest. He didn't say that he wasn't a kid that needed to take a nap to not feel "grumpy" or "sad" anymore. He stayed silent because she wouldn’t listen anyway. She had decided that he was crying because he was tired and she wouldn't tolerate him saying otherwise. Besides, she was probably right.  
  
Eddie was tired. But he was always tired. Tired of himself, tired of his life, tired of his medication, tired of everything. He wanted to be like his friends, to live like his friends. Richie could take his bike anytime he wanted. Mike was working at the farm, and his grandparents trusted him to handle physical work. Ben was constantly working on the clubhouse, outside of his home. Beverly was free, toying with danger on every occasion. Stan, despite his rigid father, was able to be with his friends and enjoy his free time. And Bill… Bill was inspiring every single one of them.  
  
Eddie wanted to be more like him. Strong. Brave. Bright. Bill wasn't one to blindly do what he had been told to do. He was tracing his own path, running towards danger if he felt like he had to do so. He would never let his mom treat him like a baby. He wouldn’t stay at home like a prisoner. If Bill wanted to go out, he would open his window and climb down the roof, caring more about seeing his friends than about a possible punishment.  
  
Eddie was not brave like him. He was a coward. A weak coward that needed his mommy for everything. A stupid child who would never grow up. He’ll always need his mommy’s help to get dressed, to take a bath, to fasten his seat-belt. And he was terrified of losing her. Terrified of being alone. So he would just obey, like the nice son he was supposed to be.  
  
That was how he would get to stay with her. To have her hand gently brush his hair like she was doing it right now. He curled up on his bed, looking for her touch, her presence. He was still crying, unable to stop himself. His thoughts reminded him again and again how weak he was, how stupid he was, how he didn't deserve his friends and his mom, and how he would be alone one day. All alone.  
  
“Mommy’s here, Eddie bear. Mommy will take care of you. Mommy knows how hard it is for you. Mommy will do everything for her little boy. Everything.”  
  
Eddie couldn't help but think that there was something ominous about his mom's words. But he chased this thought away, closing his eyes, focusing on her touch, the sound of her voice, her breathing pattern. Instinctively, he put his fingers between his lips, biting them, sucking them. She didn't try to stop him, continuing to stroke his hair and whispering words to his ear that were becoming less and less understandable every second ticking by, until he couldn't hear her anymore.  
  
He dreamed of his friends, leaving him one by one without even giving him a last glance. He dreamed of his mother and father, of the last memory he had of him, in his hospital bed. And suddenly, here he was, at his father's place, as sick as he was. But his mom was there. She was taking care of him when no one else was. She was making sure that he felt loved, even when he was so close to heaven. She was there. She was there.  
  


*

  
  
Eddie watched his mother leave the house, looking at her through his bedroom’s window. He barely noticed that her car left their lane in the opposite direction that she was usually taking, focusing on the fact that he was alone in his house. He knew she had to go to work, but it was frustrating. The Losers were at school and Eddie… Eddie was stuck here. All alone.  
  
He laid down on his bed, eyes fixed on his ceiling. It was still early, too early for the sun to rise completely. It was still a bit dark outside, enough for Eddie to be able to see the stars that were usually obstructing his vision when he closed his eyes or during the night. He tried to count them, to no avail. He couldn’t even focus on them, like he usually did when he had nothing else to do.  
  
Eddie wanted to go to school. He wanted to be with his friends, as long as he could. Because his mom was right. They would leave. They would leave Derry behind, go to college, find a job, someone to love. They would marry and raise children happily, like in the movies. And Eddie… Eddie wouldn’t do any of that.  
  
He couldn’t imagine himself living with someone else, aside from his mother. He tried to, but it was useless. Who would marry someone like him? Who would take the risk to give birth to children sick like he was? He would never be able to be a solid and reassuring presence for his spouse. He wouldn’t be able to sustain a job. He would need help in so many ways. Who would want to live with him? Who would be ready to handle all of that? Aside from his mom…  
  
Eddie let out a yelp, startled, when he suddenly heard a noise. He turned his head towards his window, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“R… Richie?”  
  
He rubbed his eyes, but Richie was still there, waiting for him to open the window. Eddie did so immediately, heart beating, shocked to see his friend there, in his room:  
  
“Hey, Eds!”  
  
“Richie, what the fuck are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at school, it’s Monday, you’re going to get punished, you can’t just…!”  
  
Richie flicked Eddie on the nose, shutting up his rant. Eddie let out an angry “Richie!”, that his friend brushed off, shrugging with a smile:  
  
“Hello to you too, Eddie. Glad to see you energetic like that. Me? I’m fine, I was passing by and...”  
  
“I asked you what the fuck you’re doing here, Richie.”  
  
Eddie didn’t want to cause any troubles to Richie. Of course, he was happy to see his friend. But Richie had to go to school, to attend his classes, to do everything that Eddie couldn’t do himself. He wasn’t supposed to be there, in his room, at this hour of the day…  
  
“Okay, Eds. I… I needed to talk to you.”  
  
Eddie parted his lips, but Richie stopped him, shaking his head:  
  
“Not here. At the clubhouse. It’s… It’s important.”  
  
“W… What?”  
  
Eddie’s eyes widened, while he was trying to process everything that was happening right now. Richie was in his room when he was supposed to be at school. He wanted him to leave his house. To go to the clubhouse. Because he had something to say to him and it was important.  
  
“R… Richie. I can’t leave. I’m not allowed to leave. Mom…”  
  
“Your mom is not here, Eddie.” Richie retorted, deadly serious. “She’s not here and she’ll never know that you left. I’ll bring you back before she comes back from work. Eddie, please. It’s very, very important.”  
  
Eddie was terrified. Terrified at the idea of leaving his house when his mother had explicitly forbidden him to do so. When he was at home and his mother was not, he had to stay. It was dangerous for him to leave the house. His mom needed to know where he was, to be able to call him if she needed to. He… He couldn’t just leave.  
  
“Mommy will know.” Eddie said, scared, his voice shaking slightly. “I’m not allowed to leave the house. I have to be good for her. I have to. We can stay here. We can talk here. We don’t have to… to...”  
  
Eddie started to wheeze. He reached out for his inhaler, noticing Richie’s sad look, but not knowing what to think of it.  
  
“Eddie. Eddie, please. Come with me at the clubhouse. It’s important. It’s really important. I’m begging you.”  
  
Eddie was so surprised by Richie’s plea that he almost dropped his inhaler. He looked at his friend, like he was really seeing him for the first time in his life. Richie would never beg. He wouldn’t. He was too proud for that. He was above that. Richie, begging… It didn’t sit right in Eddie’s mind. It made him feel uneasy.  
  
Why would Richie be so desperate? Why would he…? Eddie started to get suspicious. He gave him a nasty look, saying with a cold tone:  
  
“It’s not about this therapist bullshit again, right?”  
  
Richie stayed silent. He parted his lips, closed them, parted them again. And he finally said, fumbling with his glasses:  
  
“No. It’s not about that.”  
  
Eddie felt relieved. He didn’t want to hear about that again. He didn’t need to see a therapist. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t retarded. He just needed his mom. But he had to be sure.  
  
“Promise?”  
  
“I… I swear.”  
  
And Eddie believed him. Because Richie wouldn’t lie to him. Because he was his friend and friends never lied to each other. Friends were supposed to be there for each other. And if it was important enough for Richie to miss school, it was important enough for Eddie to leave his house. Even though he was terribly scared to do so. Bringing his fanny pack with him, Eddie took a deep breath.  
  
“Okay. I’ll follow you.”  
  
The first step outside was the hardest. Eddie had opened his front door, but he was stuck, unable to leave his home. It was like his mom was hidden closely, waiting for him to disobey her, to make this terrible mistake. He could feel her watching him, monitoring him. It was like wearing a leash, a leash that prevented him to leave his home, that kept him where he was supposed to be.  
  
Richie was waiting for him, visibly agitated, but not wanting to hurry him. He was looking at Eddie, offering him a patient, reassuring smile:  
  
“You can do it, Eds. You can do it. You’re braver than you think.”  
  
That’s what he needed to hear. This sentence. How Richie was saying these words to him. He was brave. He was brave. Finally, Eddie managed to step a foot outside. Then the other. And he was out. He was out. Eddie couldn’t believe it. He laughed nervously and happily at the same time, struggling to process what he was feeling.  
  
“Eds, I’m sorry, but we have to go. They’re waiting for us.”  
  
Eddie followed Richie as quickly as he could, climbing on his bike. So, everyone was ditching school? It was definitely serious. Eddie was getting nervous. Were his friends in trouble? Did something bad happen while he wasn’t there? He hoped he could help. Maybe Henry Bowers did a number on one of his friends. Richie seemed fine, but Eddie hadn’t seen the others yet. If Bowers hurt a single one of them, Eddie would kill him.  
  
When they finally arrived, Eddie was the first to run to the clubhouse, climbing down the ladder, looking at everyone else.  
  
“Are you… Are you okay?”  
  
They were all looking at him. None of them seemed hurt, which was a relief. But… they were staring at him. Staring silently. They were looking at him, then Richie, then him, and none of them was uttering a single word. Eddie was growing more and more nervous, scratching his cast anxiously:  
  
“Hey, guys. That’s… That’s not funny. What’s happening?”  
  
A nervous giggle slipped out of his lips. What the fuck was happening right now? Why weren’t they talking? Why were they all looking at him like that? Why did he feel like the only one left out of the loop? Eddie didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.  
  
Bill was the first one to talk, looking at Eddie with a deadly serious stare:  
  
“Eddie, you… You should sit d-down.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Bill is right, Eddie.” Mike said, as gently as he could. “You should really sit down. We… We need to talk.”  
  
Eddie wanted to protest, but he just sat here, on the swing that was in the clubhouse, nervously clutching the ropes with one hand. He sat here with a frightened expression on his face, feeling like a trapped animal. He suddenly wanted to run away, knowing that he wouldn’t like what was going to be said to him, but unable to move.  
  
He wanted to cry. He started to guess why they would all want him here, what would be so urgent that they’d feel the need to ditch school to tell him so:  
  
“You don’t like me anymore.”  
  
“What?” Beverly said, astonished. “Eddie, what are you talking about?”  
  
“You think I’m stupid. You don’t… You don’t want to be my friend anymore. You… You just want me out and… and you couldn’t wait to tell me that, because… because you can’t stand me anymore, you…”  
  
And here he was, crying again. No wonder his friends couldn’t wait to ditch him… He was a sobbing mess, a fucking baby that would always need his mother, no matter what. Why would anyone want him as a friend?  
  
Richie was the first one to reach out to him, cupping his face in his hands:  
  
“Eddie, Eddie, I swear, that’s not what we have to tell you. You’re our friend and I… we love you. A lot. Eddie, please, I know you’re upset, but I need you to calm down and listen to us. It’s… It’s really, really important.”  
  
Eddie sniffled, wiping his eyes. Okay. Okay, they still wanted him as friend. Okay. They weren’t trying to chase him away.  
  
“What… What’s going on?”  
  
“I… It’s complicated. I don’t even know where to start. Fuck...”  
  
Richie took a step back, sitting in the hammock, burying his face in his hands. Stan took over, getting close to Eddie:  
  
“One thing at a time. Eddie, do you know what autism is?”

Eddie was about to shake his head when the word suddenly rang a bell. He remembered. He remembered this doctor that he saw with his mother. How she stormed out of his office, furious, screaming that Eddie would never be institutionalized. That he wasn’t crazy nor retarded. He wasn’t listening much at the moment, but now he remembered. He remembered that the doctor used that word. To talk about him.  
  
“I don’t want to know. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not me.”  
  
“Eddie...”  
  
“No! No, my mom told the doctor he was wrong and she’s always right! Always!”  
  
Stan looked at him with a piercing look, that made Eddie squirm on the swing:  
  
“Was your mom right to insult me? Do you think she was in the right to do so? Do you think that I’m a “dirty jew”, Eddie?”  
  
Everyone looked startled at Stan’s words. But he was not flinching. He kept staring at Eddie, with a harsh gaze, waiting for his answer. Eddie was left dumbfounded, lips parting and closing, unable to utter a single word. He needed a few minutes to finally be able to whisper a shameful “No...”, avoiding Stan’s gaze as much as he could.  
  
“No. So, you don’t think that I’m a “dirty jew”, Eddie. But your mother does. That means she’s wrong. That means she can be wrong about things, don’t you agree?”  
  
“I… uh...”  
  
He couldn’t say the words. Eddie barely nodded, heart beating so fast in his chest that he felt like it was going to burst out of his rib cage.  
  
“Don’t you think that she could be wrong about that too? About the fact that you can’t be autistic?”  
  
Eddie didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He wanted to go home and forget. It was already too much for him. But it wasn’t over. Far from it.  
  
“I talked to the school therapist.” Richie said, raising his head to look at Eddie, who was clearly surprised by his words. “Yeah, I’m seeing a therapist. Regularly. Beat me. He thinks you’re autistic too. But your mom doesn’t allow him to talk to you. You don’t think that’s weird?”  
  
“I… uh… Mommy, she’s… she just...”  
  
Eddie was at a loss for words. He clutched one of the swing’s ropes in his hand, so hard that it was hurting him.  
  
“He’s worried about you. We’re all worried about you. You need to talk to someone.”  
  
“You… You told me that it wasn’t about this therapist stuff...”  
  
Eddie was shaking. He didn’t want to hear what they were saying to him, so he focused on Richie’s promise that he made earlier.  
  
“You promised! You promised and you lied!”  
  
“Eddie, please...” Richie said, looking exhausted and desperate. “Don’t...”  
  
“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up! You lied! You lied to me! Mommy was right! I don’t have friends, you’re not my friends, you…!”  
  
“Your “Mommy” is fucking lying too!”  
  
Richie suddenly raised his voice, his fist hitting a nearby wall. Eddie went silent, words caught in his throat, his breathing shallow. Ben sat next to Richie, massaging his shoulders, shushing him, trying to calm him down.  
  
“W… What do you mean, Richie? My… My mommy, she… she won’t lie to me. She never lied to me. What…?”  
  
Beverly got close to Eddie, clutching his hand in hers. Eddie was startled at first, but her grip was strong and he needed that physical touch right now.  
  
“Eddie… I need you to listen very closely and to not interrupt me. Can you do that for me, please?”  
  
Eddie nodded, in spite of his burning desire to run away and never look back. Beverly gave him a tender smile, looking at him with a gaze full of love. And sadness.  
  
“Richie’s dad… He’s a dentist, you know? A doctor. He recognized some of your meds when you were at Richie’s house and he talked to some of his colleagues. Eddie, you… you should be dead by now. These meds, they… they should have killed you.”  
  
Eddie couldn’t say a single thing, even if he wanted to. He was paralyzed, wheezing, eyes wide. He couldn’t even reach for his inhaler, no matter how much he needed to.  
  
Beverly tried to speak again, but she let out a sob, unable to say more. Mike took over, gentle as ever:  
  
“It turns out that Mr Keene was replacing your meds with sugar pills, because he knew that it would hurt you. Your inhaler as well, it’s… You don’t need it. You never needed any of that. You’re not sick. You’re healthy, Eddie.”  
  
Eddie couldn’t process what was happening. What they were saying to him. None of their words were making a damn sense in his head right now. He was nauseous. He wanted to throw up. His mom… His mom, she… she…  
  
“Eddie?”  
  
A hand on his cheek. Eddie brutally pushed it away, standing up, shaking awfully:  
  
“You… You…”  
  
He was crying. He was wheezing. Too much. It was too much. He was going to explode. Eddie took a step back when Richie tried to get close to him, screaming at the top of his lungs:  
  
“LIAR!”  
  
And he ran away, struggling to get out of the clubhouse with his cast. He ran, faster than he ever had, not even knowing where he was going. He heard a car honk, brakes screeching, but he couldn’t care less. Fuck, maybe it would even be better if a car just ran over him, right now…  
  
He was panting furiously when his legs almost collapsed. He didn’t know if the Losers tried to follow him or not, but they weren’t there. And he was… he was at Mr Keene’s drugstore. Fuck. Why did his legs carry him there? He never even went to this place alone. It’s been so long…  
  
He needed to know. He needed to be sure. Grabbing his inhaler, he took a few puffs out of it, before entering the drugstore. Eddie breathed deeply, inhaling the particular smell of the place. Weirdly enough, he liked this perfume. Sterilized, clean. Familiar. He wasn’t sure he would love it as much if his friends were right…  
  
People were staring at him, but he couldn’t care less. Apparently, the Losers weren’t the only ones to have ditched school, since Greta Keene was here as well, staring at him, chewing on her freaking gum. She was sitting right next to Mr Keene, who was looking at him with a concerned gaze:  
  
“Edward, what are you doing here? Your mom is supposed to come next week to refill your prescription. Is there something wrong?”  
  
Eddie struggled to get the words out. He was still crying a bit, sniffling, but he managed to say, fear clearly laced in his voice:  
  
“My meds… They’re not fake, uh? They’re not… They’re not sugar pills, right?”  
  
Mr Keene stared at him silently for a while, before shaking his head:  
  
“What… What are you talking about, Edward? Who told you that? Of course, they’re not! Don’t be stupid! Go back to your mother, she must be worried sick. You know she doesn’t like you leaving your home...”  
  
He ran to the back, while Eddie was sighing, clearly relieved. Of course, it was a lie. Of course. He needed his meds. He was sick. He…  
  
“They’re placebos.”  
  
Eddie raised his head at Greta’s words:  
  
“What?”  
  
“Your meds, they’re fake. I heard my father talking about it on the phone with your mom.”  
  
The relief was gone, once again.  
  
“You’re… You’re lying. Why are you here anyway? Fuck off.”  
  
“Fuck off yourself. Why would I lie to you, moron?”  
  
He didn’t know. He didn’t know why she would lie to him about that. He…  
  
“I was suspended for two days because I burned Beverly’s bag. She deserved it, that bitch.”  
  
“Don’t…!”  
  
“What? What are you going to do, tiny dick? It’s not like she’s your friend. Look at your cast. All white. No friends.”  
  
No friends. He didn’t have friends. His friends… His friends were telling the truth and he… he was so mean. They’ll never want to see him again. They…  
  
“Let me sign it for you.”  
  
Eddie raised an eyebrow, but he was in no condition to be suspicious about it. He let her do it, because… he didn’t really know. He didn’t know a single thing anymore.  
  
The drugstore’s door opened brutally, while Greta was finishing her work. Eddie didn’t even look at his arm, collapsing as soon as he heard her voice:  
  
“Eddie bear!”  
  
Curled up on the floor, Eddie was wheezing violently. His mom grabbed him by his left arm, forcing him on his legs, while thanking Mr Keene for calling her. He couldn’t say a single thing, couldn’t do a single thing. He was just… following her out of the drugstore, letting her sit him on the car seat, fastening his seat-belt for him.  
  
She lied to him. She lied to him. She lied to him. Eddie couldn’t believe it. He didn’t need his meds. He never needed them. He was… He was not…  
  
“M… Mommy…”  
  
His mom put her hand on his mouth, forcibly quieting him. More than anything else, the gesture made him angry and he struggled to get her hand away from his face, to be able to talk, his voice muffled by her big clutching fingers. When he finally managed to push her away, he tried to say something, but her words stopped him right in his tracks:  
  
“We’re moving out.”  
  
He thought he misheard her. Surely, he must have misheard her, right?  
  
“Mom, you…!”  
  
“You’re never leaving me anymore, Eddie. Your friends are monsters and they’re taking you away from me. We’re moving out. That’s decided.”  
  
“You can’t do that! You can’t do that! You lied to me, you fucking lied to me all these years and now…!”  
  
He didn’t have the time to avoid her hand. She slapped him violently, so much that he blacked out for a few seconds. Stunned, his ears ringing, Eddie curled up on his seat, until they finally arrived at their house. His mom grabbed him by the arm and forced him to follow her to his room, where she just threw him, saying sternly before closing the door on him:  
  
“Pack your bags. We’re leaving in two days. You’ll stay in your room until then. Maybe you’ll finally start to behave properly, without your monstrous friends to corrupt you!”  
  
She slammed the door on him, locking him up, and Eddie screamed. Screamed. Screamed. He reached out for his window, to no avail. He couldn’t get it open, no matter how hard he was trying. He was… He was trapped. He was trapped here. All alone.  
  
Eddie screamed again, banging his door until he didn’t even have the strength to stand up. Sobbing, he slid against the door, curling up on the floor. His friends… He wanted to see his friends. Why… Why did he not believe them? Why… Why was he so stupid? His mom lied to him. She lied to him all these years. She never cared about him. But his friends did. And he… He pushed them away.  
  
And now, he was going to be all alone. Away from them. Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, uh... That was heavy. We're finally arriving at this part of the story, that I thought about for a long time. Eddie's moving out, very suddenly. But where? And for what reasons? Maybe some of you can start to guess why... 
> 
> It was pretty hard to write, not gonna lie. Eddie's going to hit his lowest point pretty soon, but after that, he can only rise up again, right? Let's say that xD. 
> 
> As always, don't hesitate to comment and leave kudos! Thank you so much for still being here!
> 
> Next chapter is coming out soon!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Here's the 21st chapter of this story! Gosh, I've written more than 70 000 words for this fanfic, it's been so long since I wrote so much. Thank you for your support, it means the world to me!
> 
> I hope you'll like this chapter ! Here are the TW :
> 
> TW for the r-word  
> TW for internalized ableism  
> TW for infantilization  
> TW for physical abuse  
> TW for self-harm

Eddie had prayed that it was all a bad dream. As soon as he woke up, curled up on the floor, he prayed so hard to a God who never listened to him. And the celestial being wasn't ready to help him here either, it seemed. As soon as Eddie had looked at his cast, he knew that it wasn't a nightmare.  
  
He could see the word Greta had written, just before his mother arrived and brought him home. Loser. He knew that she probably thought it was funny and insulting for him, but it only made him think of his friends. God, his friends… The last thing Eddie said to them was that they were all liars. Fuck… How could he have been so stupid? So naive? So mean?  
  
They had been there for him in ways he couldn't even describe, so many times. And he… he… he threw that away, because he wanted to believe his _mommy_ , because he was scared to lose her, because he was a stupid, fucking coward who refused to recognize that his mom had been lying to him for too many years now.  
  
Eddie could barely think about that. It was… vertiginous. It made him feel nauseous. He thought about all of those hospital trips, all of those doctors he had seen, those meds he had taken… And for what reason? He didn't know. He couldn't understand. He… He was supposed to be sick. But he wasn't.  
  
Eddie couldn't find the strength to get on his feet. And for what purpose anyway? His door was closed. His window was jammed. He could hear his mom walking nearby, meaning that she was staying home, that he couldn't just break his window and hope for the best. She would hear him. She would prevent him from doing so. Besides, he wasn't even sure that he'd manage to go down from his roof safely, with his arm.  
  
Eddie cursed under his breath. If only he didn't have this stupid fit of anger when he was at Richie's home! He could have… He could have tried to run for it. Instead, he had no choice but to stay here all alone. In his room. Without his friends.  
  
He was supposed to pack his stuff, but Eddie couldn't bring himself to do so. It would mean that he was giving up definitely. That he was okay with them moving out… somewhere. He didn't even know where. Would his mom even tell him or would she leave him in the dark, afraid that he might find a way to warn his friends?  
  
Not that it really mattered… His friends were not his friends anymore, that was for sure. Not after what he had done. They went out of their way to help him, to make him realize the truth and he… he… Eddie sobbed, gripping brutally his hair with his fingers, hurting himself like a punishment that he clearly deserved. Even if he managed to leave his house, they wouldn't want to see him ever again. Eddie couldn't blame them. He hated himself as well.  
  
But that didn't mean that he would just obey his mom like the nice boy she wanted him to be. No. He'll never do that again. His entire life, he tried to earn her love, her attention, her affection. Eddie spent his whole life feeling guilty for how sick he was, how hard it was on his mother to take care of him, for every single one of her sacrifices. But she never sacrificed anything. It was never hard on her. It wasn't something that she had to handle. It was her choice.  
  
She chose to make Eddie believe that he was sick. She chose to buy him these meds, his inhaler, all of this stuff so expensive that he never needed in the first place. She took away from him his childhood, his teenage years, forcing him to stay at home, cooped up like a prisoner that didn't even realize that bars were surrounding him. She ruined his life, just because she could.  
  
And he let her do that. He made up excuses for her behavior, tried to rationalize her actions, and defended her against his friends when she didn't deserve it at all. Worse than that, Eddie even felt sick when he never was in the first place, as if his body, betraying him, had tried to please her, to play the part that she had assigned to him.  
  
Never again. That's what he was telling himself, while he was slowly getting up, looking at his bedroom door with a determined expression on his face. He would never obey her again like that. He would never be her perfect little boy, precious and fragile, not anymore. As soon as she would open the door to bring him his food, he'll make a run for it. That was decided.  
  
Eddie sat on his bed, breathing as regularly and slowly as possible, trying to keep himself calm and composed. He needed all of his energy. No need to waste it banging on the door like he did before. She wouldn't take pity on him. Sonia Kaspbrak was decided and nothing would make her change her mind. Well, Eddie could be stubborn too! He was going to run away. And then… And then…  
  
He didn't know. He couldn't see his friends anymore. They would never want him as a friend after what he had told them. He… Eddie understood. He would cherish the time he got to spend with them forever. But he wouldn't bother them, no. Maybe he could leave Derry. Try to live his life somewhere else. Anywhere else.  
  
The treacherous voice in his head started to speak softly to him, reminding Eddie that he could barely do anything without his mother's help. He didn't know how to cook. He had never learned any kind of physical or manual labor. Who would want to hire him? To pay him when he couldn't do a single thing without someone else's help?  
  
Maybe he wouldn't be able to find work. Fair enough. Eddie wouldn't want to hire himself either. He'd rather live on the street or try his luck in the wild than to stay another minute with his mother. Maybe he'd die. No money. No food. No help. How could he even hope to survive like that? He was just a kid. A hopeless kid.  
  
"Then I'll just die," Eddie whispered under his breath, harshly, still tugging on his hair. "I'll die, and no one's going to miss me. At least I'll be free."  
  
Free, yes. Eddie had never been free before. He didn't know how it felt like. He thought it might be as exhilarating as how he would feel when he was on Richie's bike, with not a single care in the world.  
  
Thinking about his friend was too painful. Eddie wanted to see him again. He wanted to go back to their sleepover, to their tight hugs and conversations that they shared. He wanted to feel his arms around him, to hear his voice assuring him that everything would be fine, promising him that he'd be okay and that he'll never be alone.  
  
Eddie let out a sob at the thought. Even if he got out, it wouldn't happen. He knew it. He knew it well. But…  
  
"Richie…." Eddie cried, hugging himself as much as he could. "R… Rich..."  
  
He missed him. He missed him so much. He couldn’t imagine a lifetime without his friend. Without any of his friends, actually. But Richie… Richie was special. Eddie didn't even know why, but it was absolutely sure. Living without him, without his stupid jokes, without their banter, it… it wouldn't be a life.  
  
Eddie heard his mom's footsteps getting nearby. He quickly wiped his face, shaking his head. No time to cry. No time to despair. His mother was bringing him food, and it was his chance to run away. He got up, breath caught up in his throat, more scared than ever. As soon as she opened the door, he pushed her away as strongly as he could. He heard her scream and the banging sound that the meal tray she was carrying made when it crashed against the floor, but he couldn't care less.  
  
Eddie hurtled down the stairs, not looking back, focused on his objective: the front door. He turned the knob, but the door stayed close. A whimper made his way out of his throat, while he was desperately trying to find the key, but to no avail. Soon enough, his mother was right next to him. She grabbed him firmly by his hair, and he hissed painfully, while she was bringing him back to his room.  
  
"Do you think I'm an idiot, Eddie? Do you really think that I would have left the door wide open for you to run away? Do you really think so lowly of your own mother?"  
  
They were back in his room. She closed the door behind them, finally letting go of Eddie's hair. He threw himself at her, trying as hard as he could to escape her, but she pushed him back on the bed, forcing him to stay put, her hands on his shoulders. He was so weak… Why was he so tiny and fragile?  
  
“I hate you! You’re the worst and I fucking hate you!”  
  
"You're just confused, Eddie bear. Your friends put horrible thoughts in your mind, but you'll see soon enough that I'm right and that you need me."  
  
"I don't need you!" Eddie screamed, trying to escape her clutches, unable to do so. "I never needed you, you… You lied to me! I was never sick, I didn't need my meds, I… I…"  
  
His words got stuck in his throat, and, soon enough, he found himself unable to say a single thing. He could only whine and cry, exhausting himself trying to escape his mother, feeling trapped by her hands, her presence, the influence that she had on him.  
  
"I'm going to have to teach you a lesson, Eddie bear. You shouldn't have tried to escape, and you shouldn't have said these awful things to me, your dearest mother. You're not going to eat until this evening. And this..."  
  
She got up, taking his comics in her hands.  
  
"I'm keeping them with me. If you're nice, I'll give them back to you. If you're not, I'll burn them. Now pack your stuff. If you don't, I'll just sell your things, and you'll have nothing left when we're going to move out. Your choice, Eddie."  
  
Eddie wanted to say something. To protest. To insult her. But he was at a loss for words. He couldn't form them in his mind, in his throat. He could only scream while she was quickly exiting the room, closing the door behind her before he had the time to try to escape again.  
  
His comics… She had took them away. They… He had read them with Richie. Richie even offered to him some of them. He… He needed them. He needed them because they reminded him of Richie. Because they reminded him of his friend. She had no right. She… She…  
  
Eddie felt utterly alone. And, more than that, ashamed. It was his chance. His chance to run away. And he ruined it. He curled up on the bed, grabbing his teddy bear, hugging it tightly. If only his father was here, right now… That was all he had left of him. This and his chessboard. He wouldn't leave that behind. Eddie would never let his mother sell his father's belongings. The only things he had left of him.  
  
Eddie wished that his father was alive. If he was, it would have never happened. Frank Kaspbrak would never have allowed Sonia to treat Eddie like she had for all these years. Eddie would never have to take these stupid meds. He would be allowed to go out with his friends and do what a teenager like him was supposed to do in his free time.  
  
Maybe he would have been diagnosed. Eddie still wasn't sure what autism was, but he slowly started to accept that it might be something that he had. That he could be autistic. He could have been helped. He could have had support. He wouldn't have spent all of his time wallowing in self-hatred, terrified that his mom might hate him because he was crazy or retarded. Maybe he was, after all.  
  
It wouldn't matter anyway. He didn't want his mother's love. He didn't need it anymore. She didn't love him anyway. She loved the son that he was trying to be for her. Polite. Obedient. Submissive. It wasn't him. Eddie wasn't like that. He was brave. He was wild. He was daring. He didn’t hesitate to put himself in harm’s way to save his friends. And… And he was stupidly wild enough to have smoked pot.  
  
He giggled at the thought. Eddie wanted nothing more than to tell his mother right now. He got up to the door, about to bang against it to get her attention, when he stopped himself suddenly, giving up on the idea. She wouldn't care. Why would she? She had him under her thumb. Eddie couldn't get out. He couldn't leave her. He was at her mercy. This stupid rebellious act didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. He was still… He was still captive.  
  
She wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t answer. She didn’t care about Eddie’s well-being, about what he was thinking or anything like that. She would ignore him, ignore the person that he was, too different from the boy she wished she had. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.  
  
Eddie gave up, sitting on the floor, his back against the door. He tried to tell his mom to fuck off when he heard her footsteps nearby, but the words were stuck in his throat, and he barely managed to let out a frustrated sound. Eddie curled up, hugging himself, closing his eyes. It was over. It was all over. He had nothing left. Nothing.  
  


*

  
  
Eddie hadn’t move for hours when he heard a little “poc” against his window. He sluggishly raised his head, his eyes widening when he saw Richie. He got up immediately, about to open the window for him, when he remembered that it was stuck. Eddie looked around him, found his notebook and quickly wrote on it, showing it to Richie :  
  
_Window stuck. Can’t open it._  
  
Richie grimaced at his words. He took his own notebook from his school backpack, writing quickly on the paper:  
  
_Your mom called the school principal. Mrs. Beckett told Stan that you were moving out. I'm getting you out of here._  
  
Eddie stayed still, bewildered, while Richie was fiddling with the window, trying to get it open, to no avail.  
  
_Help me, Eddie! You need to get it open!_  
  
Eddie couldn't get himself to move, to look for anything. He was suddenly terrified that his mind was playing tricks on him. That he fell asleep and that it wasn’t happening at all. Why would Richie be here? Eddie had been the worst of friends with him.  
  
_Why are you here? You can't be here. It’s impossible._  
  
Richie rolled his eyes, and Eddie was practically sure that he was swearing, writing as quickly as he could:  
  
_We don't have time for this! Break your fucking window open!_  
  
Eddie's eyes widened at the idea. His mom was still there, downstairs. She would hear him. She would hear him and…  
  
Richie banged on the window to get his attention, startling Eddie:  
  
_Come on, Eds! I'll take you home. Break this fucking window NOW!_  
  
And Eddie didn't hesitate anymore. He was going home. With his friend. With his real family. He took a deep breath, grabbed his chair and threw it against the window, while Richie was getting away from it to avoid getting hurt. It was unbelievably loud, but the glass was broken and he could escape.  
  
Eddie hissed painfully when he scraped his knee against the glass, but he didn't have time to think about the pain or anything else. Richie helped him up, doing his best to assist him while they were going down the roof. Eddie heard his mom screaming his name right at the moment his feet were touching the ground and he froze on the spot, like a deer caught in the headlights.  
  
Richie had to shake him violently to get him out of this state, apologizing when he heard Eddie whimper. Eddie knew that they didn't have the time. That they had to run away quickly. He had started to climb on Richie's bike when his mother, perched at his bedroom's window, screamed once again:  
  
"Edward, if you leave with him, I'm calling the police!"  
  
Eddie had stopped on his tracks at his mom's words. Richie was begging him to get on the bike, to go with him, but Eddie couldn't move.  
  
"Be a nice boy, Eddie, and come back home. If you're sweet, I won't call the police on Richard."  
  
“Don’t listen to her, she’s full of shit! Eddie, please!"  
  
Richie took his hand in his, grabbing it tightly. Eddie was paralyzed, unable to do a single thing, unable to make a choice.  
  
"He'll get in trouble, Eddie, because of you. They'll arrest him. He'll be put in jail. How do you think his parents are going to react? How many bottles do you think his alcoholic of a mother is going to drink without her son there to stop her?"  
  
Richie spat a furious “Fuck you!” to Sonia Kaspbrak, trying desperately to get Eddie to follow him. But Eddie was stuck. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn’t make a decision. He…  
  
"It's going to be your fault, Eddie bear. You just have to come home. You just have to be nice and come home with your mommy. And Richard won't be in trouble. I promise."  
  
Eddie knew that she had won. He took his hand away from Richie, trying as hard as he could to ignore the heartbroken "Eddie..." that came out of his lips. He wanted to apologize. To thank him for everything he had done for him. To say goodbye. Anything. But he couldn't. He couldn't speak anymore. He… He…  
  
Richie's arms around him. He was hugging Eddie, tightly, strongly, as much as he could. He whispered in his ear, while Eddie was sobbing and shaking:  
  
"I'll wait for you. I'll wait for you here, as long as necessary. If you can't come back, I'll find you wherever you are. I'll never stop thinking about you. I'll never stop missing you. No matter how long it's going to take, we'll be together again. I'll never give up on you, Eds. I swear. I swear on my life. I...”  
  
Eddie suddenly felt himself grabbed, away from Richie, away from his embrace. He tried to scream, but his mom put her hand on his mouth, shutting him quickly:  
  
"Stop with your nonsense, Eddie. Richard, you better leave before I call the police on you."  
  
Eddie begged him silently to go away. He didn't want to be the reason why Richie might get in trouble. He felt relieved and desperate at the same time when Richie climbed on his bike, giving him a last look:  
  
"This isn't over, Eds. Stay strong. We'll see each other again. I swear."  
  
He finally left when Sonia threatened him once again, calling him a “fucking queer”. Eddie had no idea what she meant by that and he didn’t have the strength to care. He went limp against her, defeated. She dragged him home, brushing his hair, whispering sweet nothings to his ear. Eddie didn't want to listen to her words. He didn't want to feel her hand on his skin, on his face, on his hair. He hated her. He hated her so much…  
  


*

  
  
Eddie was spending his last moments in Derry. He never thought that he would miss this fucking town so much. He always dreamed of leaving it behind, with his mother there, to finally be free. But that wasn't happening. Eddie was moving out, away from his friends, away from everything he ever cared about.  
  
He had resigned himself, worried that his mom might get Richie in trouble if he didn't behave. He didn't utter a single word, unsure that he could even do such a thing now. Not that she would listen anyway… He packed his stuff, keeping his father's plush near him, the only comforting object he had in his life.  
  
They were going to leave. Leave and never come back. Eddie wanted to see his friends one last time. To not let the moment where he insulted them be the last time they ever saw him. He hoped they would be here. His eyes wandered towards their living room's window, trying to catch a glimpse of them and see if they were there. He was eating his breakfast without even knowing what he was putting in his mouth, drinking what his mother had given him, knowing that she would get angry and might get Richie in trouble if he tried to rebel against her.  
  
He suddenly felt… sleepy. Tired. Extremely tired. Eddie tried to get up from his chair, but couldn't find the strength to do so. His eyelids were fluttering, and an exhausted whine ventured out of his lips, while his head was dropping against the table. He tried to stay awake, but he couldn't win this fight.  
  
"I'm sorry, Eddie bear. Mommy needs to make sure that you’re going to be nice during the trip. It's going to take a while to get to our new home. Sleep, my dear child. Mommy’s keeping you safe.”  
  
Eddie didn't feel her carrying him out to her car. He was too out of it to hear his friends call his name, to see his mom's victorious expression while she was putting him on the car seat, fastening his seat belt. He didn't realize that they were there to say goodbye to him. No. Eddie was far, far away from everything else, his head resting against the window in an awkward position.

“Mommy’s going to take care of you, Eddie bear. Everyone will see how much I love you, Eddie bear. How much I care for you."  
  
And, after having kissed her son's forehead, she turned on the engine, leaving Derry behind. To start a new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hmm... Don't hate me too much please? No, more seriously, I hope you liked this chapter. Next one is going to be from Richie's POV and it's probably going to be a bit longer than usual. 
> 
> It was pretty hard to write, not gonna lie. I don't like being mean to my characters, but that's how the story is supposed to go for now xD. 
> 
> I hope you're having a nice day. Don't hesitate to leave a kudo or a comment. I love to read you. Even just a few words are enough to make my day and motivate me c:. See you soon!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! So here's the 22nd chapter of my fanfic, I hope you'll like it. It's really the turning point of my story, so I really, really hope that it'll be good enough. Honestly, I'm kinda scared of your reaction xD. Your support means a lot for me and I hope you won't turn away from this story after that. 
> 
> Here are the Trigger warnings, as usual:
> 
> TW for homophobia  
> TW for ableism  
> TW for mention of alcoholism  
> TW for mention of suicide  
> TW for emetophobia

Richie tried everything he could think of to find a way to reach out to Eddie, but no one could give him a single useful piece of information. Sonia Kaspbrak's departure was brutal, something she must have plotted and kept under wrap as much as she could.  
  
He went to find his teachers, to no avail. Some of them outright refused to talk to him about the subject, claiming that they had no reason to give him any information on the matter, and those who were willing to say something had nothing important to share.  
  
He tried his luck with Mr. Keene, but it was a failure as well. Richie thought that Mrs. Kaspbrak could have talked to the guy to transfer Eddie's medical information or something like that, but he didn't seem to know anything. Greta basically confirmed it, asking Richie to pay her up for info before revealing to him that Sonia hadn't said a single word to her father since the last time she saw her. She hadn't even refilled Eddie's prescription, which she was supposed to do a few days later.  
  
It was weird. Mrs. Kaspbrak always made sure that her son had his medication ready to be taken at any moment. It wasn't like her to just leave without his prescription and take the risk of running out of medication, when she was so keen on her "Eddie bear" swallowing his pills dutifully.  
  
Richie couldn't stop thinking about the last time he saw his friend. Eddie was totally out cold, carried by his mother, who looked at them with this despicable victorious expression. She took from her son the opportunity to say good-bye to the only people who truly cared about him. Richie could never forgive her for what she had done, what she had constantly done to her son. Eddie didn't deserve any of that.  
  
Eddie… Eddie was gone. And he had no idea where. Richie had begged his mom to try to reach out to Sonia Kaspbrak, but the only phone number she had was the one that called Mrs. Kaspbrak’s old landline. She couldn’t help. No one could help. When Richie realized that he had to accept this atrocious idea, he just… snapped.  
  
He got angry with pretty much everyone unlucky enough to stand in his way. Friends, teachers, enemies, passers-by… There was a storm raging in Richie's heart and soul, and there was nothing he could do to calm it down. He wanted to see Eddie. He wanted to free him from his mother's grasp. Richie had no idea if his friend was okay, if he was able to resist his mother's authority, if he knew how much Richie was thinking about him, every second ticking by…  
  
A few more days passed. The anger was still there, but there was also this despair, so heavy that Richie couldn't find the strength to leave his bed. He was curled up on his mattress, clutching the picture that they took of Eddie, when they taught him how to ride a bike. He didn't have any tears to spare anymore. He was only crying during the night, nightmare after nightmare, witnessing, as a powerless observer, Eddie getting worse and worse while his mother was methodically destroying him. Breaking him.  
  
Richie felt frustrated. And guilty. Maybe if he had been more subtle, less impatient, he could have… Eddie would have… He didn't know. Richie couldn't help but feel that it was his fault. That he should have been able to help Eddie. To prevent this mess from happening in the first place.  
  
His parents had let him his space for a few days, but he knew that it wouldn't last. Wentworth and Maggie Tozier weren’t the kind to allow their son to wallow infinitely in his despair. Richie couldn't tell what day it was when his mom and dad sat on his bed, gently brushing his hair, trying to get him to look at them.  
  
"Richie, you haven't left your room at all. You need to take a shower and to go back to school, to go back to your friends." Wentworth sighed. "I know it's hard, son, but…."  
  
“Leave me alone.”  
  
Richie had mumbled these words, refusing to look at them, keeping his attention focused on Eddie's picture. He didn't want to move on. He didn't want to go back to his normal life. It wasn't supposed to happen. His day-to-day life included Eddie. Without him, it wasn't his life. He refused it. Rejected it.  
  
His mom tried to get his attention, taking his free hand in hers in a loving and caring gesture:  
  
"We're worried, Richie. Your friends are as well. You… You need to go out. You can't stay here like that. Eddie wouldn't want you to..."  
  
Richie forced his hand out of his mother's, straightening up on his bed, staring at them furiously:  
  
“Stop! You have no fucking idea what Eddie might want right now! You don’t have the right to speak for him!”  
  
“Richie...”  
  
"No! Eddie’s in danger and I’m here and I can’t do a single fucking thing! I promised him that I would find him, that we would see each other soon! It’s been two fucking weeks already! I don't even know where he lives, his phone number, nothing!"  
  
Richie hit his mattress before putting his hands on his head, clutching on his hair. Doing so reminded him of Eddie and his fits of anxiety, and it riled him up even more. He was a shaking mess, thoughts flying everywhere, unable to control his anger, energy, and what was coming out of his mouth…  
  
“It’s my fault, it’s my fucking fault! He went with her because he was worried about me, because he was scared that she might call the cops on me! Fuck that, fuck her, fuck everything!”  
  
"Richie, please… I'm begging you." His mother's voice was trembling, her eyes watering. It only made him angrier, irrationally. He stared at her, waiting to see what kind of platitude she might have in reserve for him, waiting for an opportunity to scream at someone, anyone, and let out just a tiny bit of this fury that he couldn't control. "It's not your fault, don't blame yourself, you..."  
  
Richie let out a nervous laugh and was unable to stop the words coming out of his throat:  
  
“Then it’s your fucking fault!”  
  
At the moment he finished his sentence, Richie knew that he had said something very, very wrong. His parents went still, his mother paling clearly. His father was giving him a cold, chilling look, as if he was daring him to continue his thought. His mom parted her lips, unable to say a single word during a few seconds before managing to articulate:  
  
"R… Richie… What do you mean? What do you mean, honey? Please, answer me."  
  
He didn't want to. His father was silently begging him to stay silent, as if he could guess what was going on in his mind. Richie had never felt so ashamed, so awful before. But his mom kept asking him, and he finally whispered, unable to look at her while saying so:  
  
"Mrs. K., she… she said to Eddie that… that she would call the cops on me if he didn't come back and… and that I wouldn't be there anymore to stop you from drinking…"  
  
Richie regretted everything he had just said to her, every single word, but he didn't have the time to apologize to his mother. Worryingly quiet, she had gotten up and left the room, turning her back on him. He tried to go after her, but his father stopped him, claiming with a serious and chilling voice:  
  
“Don’t!”  
  
Richie went still. And finally, he allowed himself to cry in front of his father, to let out the sobs that he was keeping for himself during the night, far away from everyone else. Panicking violently, Richie suddenly talked fast, too fast, not even taking the time to breathe properly:  
  
“I didn’t mean to say that, it’s not Mom’s fault, why did I fucking say that? I'm the worst, I'm the fucking worst, I didn't want to, I didn't mean to, I… I… I… !"  
  
His father hugged him, ordering him to follow his breathing pattern. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Richie did his best to calm himself down, to breathe normally, as quickly as he could. He didn't want to keep his father with him for too long. He felt he didn't deserve it, not after what he had just told his mother. He… He was awful. He was the worst.  
  
“Better?”  
  
Richie wasn't really convinced that he was, but he nodded. To get his father away from him. To allow his mom to have his support, to have someone worthy of her love to console her, to help her. Richie definitely wasn't. What would Eddie have said if he heard him talk that way to his mother? He probably would have been disgusted by Richie. Rightfully.  
  
"I know it's hard. Trust me, I know. But you can't stay in your room forever. Your mom and I will try our best to reach out to Sonia Kaspbrak. But you need to stay strong. For Eddie. And for yourself."  
  
Wentworth brushed his hair once again, before getting up from the bed and adding sternly:  
  
"Now, you're going to take a shower. Tomorrow, I want you to go to school, and I expect a sincere apology to your mother. I'm not going to let you throw away your future that way, am I clear?"  
  
Richie nodded once again, biting his lip. He would have given everything to take back the awful words he said to his mom. Everything. But it was too late now. He could only make amends with her and hope for the best. His father gave him a weak smile before leaving him in his room. Richie took Eddie's picture in his hand, caressing his face briefly:  
  
"I'm sorry, Eddie. I won't give up. I'll stay strong, I promise."  
  
And he'll start by taking a shower. He was truly stinking. Eddie would be disgusted, if he could smell him right now…  
  


*

  
  
The world hadn't stopped spinning, despite Eddie's absence. Day after day, night after night, life was moving forward, forcing Richie to follow its footsteps. Cracking a joke to his friends was difficult, something he had to force out of his throat to prevent them from worrying about him and make them believe that he was okay. He wasn't okay. He truly wasn't.  
  
Focusing on schoolwork was the hardest. How could he care about mathematics or literature when Eddie wasn't there by his side to keep him disciplined during his lessons? When Richie wasn't motivated by the fact that he needed to take notes thoroughly to help Eddie to stay on par with his classmates when he couldn't attend his classes? How could he? He had absolutely no idea.  
  
He couldn't stop himself from acting out. Richie was trying, really, he was! He still felt guilty about his words towards his mom and he really wanted to keep his promise to his father. But… But he was still angry. An anger that was slowly dying down and leaving room to a strange feeling of… numbness. It was like he was stuck, stuck in one place, while the rest of the world was just living his life.  
  
Every single little thing reminded him of Eddie. The hammock in the clubhouse. His bike that he didn't have the heart to ride on without his friend on it. His seat next to him in the classroom. This fucking empty chair. He kept expecting to see Eddie by his side when he fell asleep in class and woke up, but it never happened. Empty. Empty. Empty.  
  
Until the year passed. Until someone tried to take the seat next to him. Richie didn't even know the poor girl, who had glasses as big as him and really needed to sit on the front row. Richie had literally screamed at her when she tried to do so, taking her bag and throwing it across the classroom. He felt awful when he saw her cry and bawl, but… but it was Eddie's seat. Eddie… Eddie was supposed to be with him. In the classroom. In the clubhouse. In his room. He should have been there, and he wasn't.  
  
After that, Richie was pretty much forced to go to the school therapist every day after his lessons, trying to talk about his "feelings". But how could he, when he couldn't even tell the truth? When he couldn't even confess how he really felt? He loved Eddie. Loved him so much. He couldn't stop thinking about him. He couldn't move on.  
  
Even if he still had not one single hint about his location, his whereabouts, Richie hadn't given up on him. He still tried to grill everyone that might have a piece of information, something, anything, even after all this time. But still nothing. It was like Eddie had never existed in the first place. Richie hated that. He hated that so much.  
  
He kept his picture with him at all times, looking at it when he thought no one could see him do so. Richie needed to feel him close to him, to know that he was there, in some way. That he was real and that he was waiting for him, somewhere, anywhere.  
  
At first, the Losers club had tried to find Eddie as well. They helped as they could, supporting Richie. But then, they… they moved on. One by one. At least, Richie thought so. In some way, they still missed Eddie, as if his very own absence had broken something in them. Stan wasn't a member of the chess club anymore. Beverly hadn't smoked since he left. They all left the hammock to Richie and Richie alone, as if sitting on it would be a heresy, a betrayal of some sort.  
  
But they slowly spoke less about Eddie. They focused on their life, on their studies, on their work. Richie couldn't blame them, even though a part of him wanted to. It wasn't the same for them. They… They didn't love Eddie like he did. They didn't know…  
  
He thought about telling them. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. He was still terrified of losing them, irrationally scared that they might find a way to contact Eddie and warn him about his feelings. That all of his friends might find him dirty. A fucking “queer”, like Mrs. Kaspbrak spat at him. Her words were a burning reminder of everything he hated about him, of everything he couldn't accept, of everything everyone else would hate about him if they ever found out.  
  
The years went by, and Richie still had no idea where Eddie was. If he was okay. He was scared that his friend might have forgotten how much he had been loved. How much they cared about him. Was he still fierce? Was he still the tiny angry gremlin that Richie loved so much? Was he still… alive? Richie couldn't even think about this last idea, but… but he did, in spite of him. What if Mrs. K. finally killed him, in her twisted way of loving him? What if he couldn't handle his life anymore and decided to just end it? What if he thought that his friends had forgotten him and… and… and…  
  
Richie's mom had stopped drinking, a difficult decision that she took after her son's harsh words, an everyday challenge that she had to face head-on, but he had other ways to find bottles and cans to drink, one after the other, not caring in the slightest if anyone could see him, if he would find himself in trouble for that.  
  
He drank, he drank and he drank until he found himself stupidly drunk. Drunk enough to reach out to someone he avoided desperately after all of these years. To someone who might understand his pain. His yearning. Richie had rang the doorbell, not thinking it through, and when Connor Bowers had opened the door, he just threw himself at him. He kissed him, hugged him, grabbed him, trying so hard to feel something, anything. To let go of this numbness that was poisoning him slowly, minute after minute.  
  
Connor had pushed him back when he felt the alcohol in his breath, but Richie begged and begged and begged. The other teenager was about to take pity on him and let him in when Eddie's name slipped on Richie's lips, glancing at the blond boy with glassy eyes, as if he was looking through him. Connor's slap was enough to get Richie out of his drunk raving, almost knocking off his glasses in the process.  
  
“Fuck off, Tozier! It's not because we're the only fucking gays in Derry that I'm going to degrade myself and be someone else's replacement. Get the fuck away!”  
  
Richie had run away without looking back, running, running, running until his footsteps led him to the quarry. Without taking his clothes off, he threw himself in the water, diving and screaming, screaming, screaming as much as he could, where no one could see him, where no one could hear him.  
  


*

  
  
It was the last time they would all be together, the Losers Club. They were all going to different colleges, following their dreams or their parents' aspirations. Beverly was studying fashion at NYU, rooming in with Ben, who was decided to become an architect. Bill was trying his luck in a writing course in California, and Stan was going to get a degree in accounting at Stanford. All of them, they were all leaving, except for Richie and Mike.  
  
Richie had an argument with his parents about that. He knew that he could do anything he wanted, that he might even be able to become a doctor like his father, but… but that would imply leaving Derry. And he had promised Eddie to stay. Eddie would know where he was, if he could reach out to him, if he could find a way to do so…  
  
Besides, he didn't even want to study anything. Richie hated school. He just wanted to find a fucking job, to have an average salary, and to wait for Eddie as long as necessary. He would gradually save money and hire a private eye, someone good enough to find Eddie. To make sure that he was still okay. To allow Richie to save him from his fucking mother.  
  
Mike was staying as well. He was working with his grandparents on their farm. Richie could tell that he didn't really want to do so, but he was still doing it, for his family, because that's how Mike was. Selfless. Devoted. Loyal. Richie hated himself for that, but he was relieved to know that his friend was staying behind with him. That he wouldn’t be alone with his dark thoughts, with his fucking numbness.  
  
One by one, they… left. Bill, Stanley, Beverly, Ben. They left, and the Losers Club was no more. They still called them regularly, send them letters and all, but… but it wasn't the same. The clubhouse was empty. Everything was so… lonely. Richie spent most of his free time with Mike when he wasn't working. He had managed to find a job at the local video store, when a member of the staff took his leave.  
  
They liked him. They liked his jokes, never noticing how forced they were. They liked how easily he could talk to people and get them to come back regularly, some of them even renting movies as a pretext to talk to Richie. Richie… Richie didn't mind his job. It was paying well enough to allow him to save a bit every month.  
  
His parents were leaving him alone, now that he had a job. He still lived with them, taking care of his mom, making sure that she wouldn't be tempted. A few times, she had relapsed, but he never had for her the harsh words that he had years before and that he couldn't forget, no matter how much he wanted to. Richie wasn't happy. But he was living. He was surviving. And he didn't give up on Eddie, as he had promised.  
  
Five years had passed since Eddie's departure. Five years without any news, any piece of information. Richie was getting close to be able to hire one fucking good private eye to find him. He wouldn't waste his money on a useless man who wouldn't be able to track him down… But Richie didn't have to do so.  
  
As usual, he was working in the video store, carrying a huge load of VHS that he probably should have balanced better, when his boss let him know that someone was on the phone for him. It was unusual. People never called him at his workplace. They usually waited for him to be home, especially since he broke the only cellphone he ever had in a fight with Henry Bowers, using it to hit him harshly on the nose.  
  
Richie nearly dropped his videotapes, managing to balance them out and to put them on a nearby shelf, running to the phone.  
  
“Richard Tozier speaking!”  
  
"Richie, thank god you're here!"  
  
Richie raised an eyebrow when he heard this familiar voice, laced with worry:  
  
“Bev? What's up? You okay?"  
  
"We don't have time for that! Richie, you need to turn on the TV. Quickly!" 

Thankfully for him, the store had such a thing, a television that they usually used to put some movie trailers, recorded on an old VHS. Not caring in the slightest about what his boss might say, he turned off the VCR, flipping through the TV channels until he found the one that Beverly told him to watch.  
  
What he saw unveiled before his eyes made him instantly drop the phone, a whimper making its way out of his throat:  
  
"Eddie..."  
  
Eddie was there, on the screen. He was… he was barely recognizable. Pale. Even skinnier than before. His head was hanging low and he was hugging his damaged plush, clutching desperately to the thing. He seemed… He seemed off. Away, away from everything, dead-eye stare cast on the ground, seemingly unaware of his environment, of what was surrounding him.  
  
But Richie knew better. He remembered how Eddie was, when his mother was around, when she went to look for him at the only sleepover they ever shared together. How he suddenly got quiet, ceasing to pay attention to what was said to him, to what was happening around him. How dependent his mom forced him to be, as if he was unable to do a single thing without her, as if he could only rely on her.  
  
And she was there. Her hand on his shoulder. Smiling, smiling so widely to the television presenter who was interviewing her, so proud of herself. Richie could barely follow what was being said, what was happening. He tried to focus, as hard as he could, shaking and clutching his fists, unable to process entirely what was going on.  
  
She was invited to this show because… because she was an important member of an association. An association devoted to… to cure autism. And she had published a few books, so inspiring, about her little angel. Her Eddie Bear. They were calling her Mother Courage. They were praising her for her bravery, for her unconditional love. How inspiring she was. How devoted she was.  
  
The last thing Richie heard was that they were going to broadcast the "heartbreaking" documentary film that they filmed for a whole year, about Sonia Kaspbrak's life with Eddie, before he found himself stumbling to the ground, nauseous, dizzy. He couldn't understand what his boss, what his colleague was saying to him.  
  
Curled up on the floor, arms pressed around his body, Richie was retching heavily, awful, disgusting noises that he couldn't control until he finally emptied the content of his stomach on the floor. He almost passed away on his own vomit puddle, prevented at the last moment by his boss, who cursed under his breath and ordered his other employee to call the Tozier landline.  
  
Eddie… Eddie… Eddie… What… What… After all these years… What had she done to him? What… What happened to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, here we are. I planned this to happen since the beginning of my story. I always wanted to turn Sonia into this "autism mom", so keen on curing her son, pretending so hard to have done the best for him, getting praise for her lies, for her ableism, for her fabricated speech. 
> 
> I got inspired by many books similar to the ones she has written so far (and that I'll talk about in the next chapter), hoping to shed light on what I consider a very important topic. Too many times, abuse has been painted as this "necessary" method to "help" autistic people. Help meaning trying to make us look less autistic, to erase every single one of our autistic traits that they might consider "annoying" or "disturbing". 
> 
> I'll detail what happened to Eddie during all these years in the next chapter. It's not going to be pretty and it's not going to be happy. But ultimately, I want to make it clear that what happened to Eddie and the consequences don't make him "less" of a person. His autism is going to be "more visible" and if I believed in functioning labels (which I don't), he'd probably be classified as "low-functioning", according to Neurotypicals' standards. 
> 
> But he's still Eddie, he's still communicating and I still intend for him to have agency, to express his feelings and his sexuality. Even though his disability is more "visible", Eddie is not a child anymore and he's the one who gets to decide how he feels and what he wants. 
> 
> That being said, I really hope I'll be able to write his story properly. 
> 
> Thank you for your support. As always, don't hesitate to leave comments and kudos. I'm very, very curious to know what are your thoughts about this last chapter and what's going to happen. Negative or positive reviews, don't hesitate. I'll read them and answer to them all.
> 
> Next chapter is coming real soon. Have a nice day.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you're feeling well. Here's THE chapter, the one I thought about since the beginning of this fanfic. I'm kinda relieved that it's finally done and out, because it was weighing on me for a while.
> 
> I wanted to thank you for your overwhelming support. Your kind words and your presence really help me and motivate me so much for this fanfic. 
> 
> This chapter is probably going to be very, very heavy. And I'm not saying that lightly. If you think you need to do so, I really advise you to read the trigger warnings I'm writing for this chapter. If you don't, just skip them because you might get spoiled on what's going to happen. With that said, I wish you good reading!
> 
> Here are the Trigger Warnings: 
> 
> TW for aba therapy  
> TW for physical abuse  
> TW for gaslighting  
> TW for emetophobia  
> TW for suicidal thoughts  
> TW for ableism  
> TW for infantilization  
> TW for self-harm
> 
> If I forgot something you think is important, don't hesitate to tell me!

_Dear Richie,_  
  
_I hope you're feeling well. My mom allowed me to write to you if I were nice enough, so I'm trying to behave for now to get to talk to you. I miss you and everyone else so much. You have no idea._  
_I still don't really know where I am. A big city, I'm guessing? From what I can see from my window, it's very different from Derry. I've never left Derry before, it's so weird._  
  
_I wanted to apologize to all of you because you were right. As soon as we arrived, Mom took me to a doctor or something, and I'm diagnosed now as autistic. I don't remember much of it, I was still awfully tired after my trip. I do remember being in a room with a lady that talked to me as if I was 3, asking me to stack objects on top of each other and to play with stuff I never saw before. I don’t think I talked to her? I haven’t said much since I arrived. I don’t want to talk to my mom and I have no one else to talk to. I miss our conversations. Your stupid jokes._  
  
_I didn't leave the apartment a lot so far. Only to get my diagnosis. Mom told me that I would start therapy today and that someone will come to our new place to do so. Maybe it's going to do me some good, I don't know. I'm not sure. Mom told me that she would be here to "help" and I don't like it. When she's here, I can't talk. It's stuck in my throat. It's almost like she's putting a hand over my mouth at all time, preventing me from saying a single word._  
  
_I don't understand why Mom changed her mind about my autism and fake illnesses. I haven’t taken any medication since we arrived and she took away my inhaler. Maybe she really wants to help me? I don't know. I'm lost. I’m confused. I need you. I need all of you, so much._  
  
_Tell everyone I said hi. And tell Stanley that I'll beat him at our next chess game. Last game we played, he won, and I'm pretty sure he cheated._  
  
_I hope you'll be able to write back. Mom told me that she would write our address on the envelope if I'm a good boy, to allow you to answer. I don't know if she's really going to do that, but I don't have a choice…_  
  
_Take care, Richie._  
  
_Eddie._  
  
Eddie put his pen back on his desk, folding the letter in half. He hoped his mom was actually going to send the letter. He really wanted to talk to Richie. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye properly to him…  
  
He left his new bedroom, joining his mom, who was preparing their space in the living room for his therapy session. Giving her the letter, he watched her intensively while she was putting it in her pocket, patting his head and giving him a sickeningly sweet smile. He wished he could tell her everything that he was thinking about her, every single insult coming to his mind, but he knew that it would be pointless. He needed to satisfy her, so that she would send this letter. And besides, he wasn't even sure he could bring himself to say a single word….  
  
Aside from a few screaming fits, Eddie had been awfully quiet since he arrived. This big change, this new home, the exhausting session he had to go through to get diagnosed… It was a lot. He wanted to rest, all the time, and yet he couldn't find sleep when he was intently trying to do so. He was thinking about Richie, about his friends, and how lonely he felt. It was hard. It was painful.  
  
Eddie groaned when the doorbell rang. He put his hands on his ears, putting them down when his mother gave him a nasty look, waiting nervously for the therapist to enter. He didn't know what to expect. Richie told him that he should see one, but he never really explained what that would entail. Sitting on the chair his mom had prepared for him, he fiddled nervously with the pen and paper that she had given to him as well. She seemed oddly satisfied not to hear him talk anymore.  
  
She never asked him anything else than Yes-No questions, which only required him to shake his head or nod. Eddie suspected that she was encouraging this behavior because she didn't want him to make a fuss. It was easier to deal with him when he wasn't arguing and trying to change her mind about his whole situation, even if he knew that it would be useless. And as much as he didn't want to satisfy her, talking verbally was tiring. He didn't have any energy left to spare for it. It's not like she would listen to him anyway.  
  
The therapist, a woman in her forties, seemed nice enough, but Eddie didn't like how she talked to him, slowly, using simple words while introducing her to him. Did she think he was stupid? Eddie's thoughts were basically confirmed when, with a smile very similar to the ones his mother could give him, she spread out three colored cards on the table and asked him, forcing eye contact on him:  
  
“Point blue.”  
  
Eddie raised an eyebrow, confused, as if he couldn't believe what she was saying to him. How old did she think he was? He was fifteen! He was in high school! Richie told him that therapy was supposed to help him, but how in the hell pointing to a colored card would help him deal with his issues? What was even the purpose?  
  
Eddie groaned, stopping himself when he felt his mom's hand gripping his shoulder. She was standing up, right next to him, towering over him. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.  
  
“Point blue!”  
  
The therapist spoke a bit louder, as if Eddie didn't understand what she was saying to him. What the fuck? What the fuck was this bullshit? He wasn’t going to put his finger on fucking colored cards like a toddler! He wanted to learn how to handle noise in a better way, how to get people more easily, not… whatever this was!  
  
He took his pen and paper, starting to write a big “FUCK YOU”, when the therapist took it away from him. Eddie really wanted to insult her. Really, really, really wanted to do so. But he couldn't. He couldn't get himself to talk. His mom’s grip on his shoulder was getting stronger and he couldn’t help, but feel afraid, small, helpless. Unable to speak. Unable to say a single word. And now that the therapist had taken his only way to communicate…  
  
"No! Point blue!"  
  
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. He knew that he was supposed to behave, so that his mom would send his letter, but fuck, why wasn't she saying a single thing about this bullshit? She was paying for that, she was paying for her teenage son to tap on stupid colored cards, what the hell? Eddie knew his mother. She wasn't one to let anyone do anything that wouldn't suit her. Why wasn't she screaming already that her "Eddie bear" didn't need that? She should have kicked out this scammer a while ago! So, why…?  
  
The therapist took his chin in her hand, forcing him to look directly at her. He swatted her hand away, letting out an angry noise, wishing he could say “fuck you” to her. He tried. He really tried. But his mom was there and the words were stuck and he couldn’t talk! Fuck, fuck, fuck.  
  
“Eyes up! Point blue!”  
  
He could understand her. He could perfectly understand her, why was she still talking to him as if he was a fucking toddler? Eddie did the only thing that could convey his thoughts perfectly at this moment, giving her the middle finger. The therapist didn't seem shocked by this evolution. She took his hand in hers and forced it on the table, brutally. Eddie let out a painful yelp, while she was keeping his hand on the table, claiming even louder:  
  
"No! Hands quiet! Eyes up! Point blue!"  
  
What the fuck? What the fuck was that? Eddie wasn’t even angry anymore. He was scared. He was fucking scared. He looked at his mom, begging her silently to end this bullshit, but she just gave him a patient smile and a few supposedly kind words:  
  
"Come on, Eddie bear. I know you can do it."  
  
Of course, he was able to do that! Of fucking course! That wasn't the point. Struggling with the therapist, he managed to take away his hand and pressed it against his chest, wheezing slightly. He started to rock on his chair, but his mom stopped him, following the therapist's instructions. Eddie was growing more and more frustrated, every second ticking by. He let out another whine, putting his left hand on his hair, pulling on it.  
  
“No!”  
  
The therapist left her chair and took his hand forcibly, folding it on his lap.  
  
“Hands quiet!”  
  
She stayed there, forcing him in this position every time he tried to move his hand, pull on his hair, and bite his fingers, anything that would allow him to let out the awful, awful surge of pressure that was invading him and clouding his mind. He had no idea how long it had lasted, but when he finally gave up, his mom wasn't standing up anymore, sitting beside him, her hand still gripping his shoulder.  
  
He was tired. Desperate. He wanted this to end. But he wouldn't do this stupid exercise. For what purpose? He knew his colors, he wasn't a fucking kid! He was bored out of his mind, exhausted, furious, terrified, too many feelings to be able to properly identify them and handle them.  
  
But he was stubborn. He was fucking stubborn and the lady would give up before him. She would see that he was a "lost cause" and she would leave to never come back. Forcing a clumsy smile, that he hoped would be sarcastic enough, he pretended to point to the card, but put his finger on the red card.  
  
Every time she repeated her stupid orders, Eddie kept pointing to the bad card, waiting for her to crack, get angry, and give up. He could feel that his mom was growing impatient with him and, even if he knew that it meant that she wouldn't send his letter, it felt like a victory to him. He wasn't his sweet Eddie Bear anymore. She could torture him all she wanted, he wouldn't obey anymore.  
  
Time went by. Eddie was growing bored of his rebellious streak, and the therapist wasn't manifesting any signs of frustration, still smiling. How long since they started this stupid session? Hours, maybe? It felt like it anyway. Eddie wanted to cry out of frustration, but he did his best to not let them see him being weak. He wasn't going to lose. He was staying strong. For his friends.  
  
Looking at his cast and seeing the word "LOSER" written helped him to stay determined. He wasn't going to give up. For his friends. For the only people who really liked him. For a while, he kept pointing to the red card, until he stopped, staying still, his mind wandering away. Every now and then, the therapist was making sure that he was still "there", snapping her fingers next to his ear, touching his leg under the table, speaking louder than before. He hated it. He hated it so much.  
  
Eddie started to squirm on his seat. He needed to go to the bathroom. Surely, they would let him go there, right? He took the paper and the pen, trying to write "Bathroom" on it, but the therapist took the paper away from him once again before he managed to do so. Eddie whined, squirming even more on his seat. He pointed towards the bathroom's door, whining and begging, but she only told him, with a firm voice:  
  
“Use your words.”  
  
And he tried. He fucking tried. Every time he managed to say the first syllable, feeling stupid at how difficult it was for him, his mom was “congratulating” him and gripping his shoulder stronger and the word would die in his throat. Again and again and again.  
  
Eddie was sweating, squirming more and more, terrified that they might not let him go to the bathroom in time. He tried to get up, but his mom pushed him back on his chair, every time. He screamed, but his therapist screamed a louder "No!" and put her hand over his mouth. He bit her and she withdrew her hand, his mom putting so much of her weight on him that Eddie had the feeling that she was breaking him in half.  
  
Until he couldn’t hold it anymore. Eddie tried, he tried so hard to do so, but he started to feel wet and hot and fuck, he really… he really did it.

That was the last straw. The humiliation. The shame. The disgust. Eddie cried, cried, cried, barely understanding what his mother was whispering in his ear at this moment. Something about a shower? If he was nice… If he… If he…  
  
"Point blue."  
  
The therapist spoke softly, and Eddie gave up. He pointed to the blue card and wailed even more when his mom and the woman congratulated him, saying that he was a "Good boy!" repeatedly, ruffling his hair, caressing his cheeks, his legs. He hated that. He hated that. He hated that.  
  
"It's time for a break. I’ll give you time to help him wash, Mrs Kaspbrak. You'll see, it's going to be easier and easier after every session. Thank you for your cooperation."  
  
"I'll do anything for my Eddie bear! I love him so much. After his father's death, I… I..."  
  
She started to cry, exaggeratedly, and fuck, fuck, fuck, he could still feel it dripping between his legs, he felt disgusting, awful, terrible. He tried to get up, to go to the bathroom, and take a shower, but his mom didn't allow him to do so, keeping him on the chair. He wanted to throw up. It was disgusting. It was humiliating. It was… It was…  
  
He didn't realize right away that his mother was finally taking him to the bathroom. She started to undress him, and he protested, whining, trying to tell her that he wanted to do that on his own. She could at least give him that! He felt like a baby, a fucking baby, he needed that! He knew he could do it without her help, he just… she had to…  
  
"Stop being so naughty, Eddie bear! That's why you wet yourself, if you complied, it wouldn't have happened! Now, let me take care of you, or I'm leaving you in these clothes for the rest of the day!"  
  
Eddie whined once again, but he stayed still while she was undressing him, helping him to the shower. He sighed when the hot water washed away the urine, closing his eyes. Fuck… He couldn't believe what just happened. It was… It was just… Impossible. Why? How? Was it… Was it really what therapy was like? Why did Richie want him to do that? Did he do that as well, when he went to the therapist? No, Richie didn't need that. Richie was smart. He was strong. He wouldn't let anyone force him to point to a stupid card. And he… He certainly wouldn't wet himself.  
  
His mom cupped his face between her hands, forcing him to look directly at her:  
  
"Now, Eddie Bear, let's make a deal. We're going to go back to our session, and you're going to be nice and obey every order this lady gives to you. If you don't behave, I'll tear your letter, I'll call the Toziers and I'll tell them everything about your accident. You don't want them to know what happened, right? You don't want your best friend to know that you wet yourself like a big baby, right? What would Richard say, if he knew what you did?"  
  
Eddie whined, shaking his head, whimpering and begging wordlessly. No, no, no! She couldn't do that! Richie couldn't know, he… he would… he would laugh at him. He had to. It was so ridiculous, so stupid of him. If he knew that Eddie couldn't even ask to go to the bathroom, he… he…  
  
"Are you going to be a good boy, Edward?"  
  
Eddie lowered his head down, nodding pitifully. She had won. She had won, and there was nothing he could do about that…  
  
After she helped him to dress up, they went back to the living room, and Eddie sat quietly on his chair, waiting for new instructions.  
  
"Point blue."  
  
He immediately obeyed, and they praised him once again. Good boy, they were saying. Good boy. Good boy. At this moment, Eddie started to feel something die inside of him. Something important.  
  


*

  
  
Every day was the same. His mom would wake him up, telling him to eat his breakfast. Eddie would eat silently what he managed to keep in his stomach, which was way less than he usually ate. Then the therapist would come for the day and they would have their session in the morning and in the afternoon. The woman would stay during the meal, watching over Eddie, only talking coherently to his mom. At first, he listened to what they were saying.  
  
Something about an association, his mom's contribution, stuff like that. The therapist would congratulate his mom on how nice he was, telling her how brave she was, and his mother would beam at her words. Every time he heard that, every time he saw her like that, Eddie wanted to throw up. Sometimes, he did. His therapist recommended a diet without gluten, telling his mom that it had miraculous effects on some of her patients. Eddie didn't care. He didn't care at all.  
  
When therapy was over, Eddie was allowed to go to his room and to write a letter to Richie. He had no idea if his mom sent them to him, but she always left with his letter and she always went back to their flat without it. She promised him that she was sending them, that it was his reward for being good and he wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that Richie was getting news, that he knew that Eddie still thought about him.  
  
But he had no answers. Day after day, week after week, month after month. Nothing. He kept looking at his mom when she returned after checking the mailbox, writing messily on his notebook:  
  
_Richie?_  
  
And she would shake her head, saying that she was "sorry" that his friend wasn't writing back to him. And Eddie would just… let it go. Maybe Richie wasn't getting his letters. Maybe he didn't have the address to answer to him. Or maybe… maybe he moved on. He had his friends, why would he need to bother with Eddie? Maybe he didn't know what to say to him. Eddie's letters were less and less coherent, they were making less and less sense every time he wrote one of them.  
  
He was losing his words. They were escaping his mind, his grasp, like a memory about to be forgotten. No one was listening to him. No one paid attention when he was "talking", when he called for help. They were all giving him this _look_. The look you would give to an injured puppy, this look that was telling him "poor boy".  
  
Eddie started to forget that he was supposed to be a teenager and was slowly becoming an adult. More and more, his mom took everything away from him that could make him feel independent and autonomous. When the therapist wasn't there, she would feed him herself. She was dressing him up in the morning and putting him in his pajamas in the evening. He never took a shower or a bath without her at his side, forcing him to stay still while she washed him thoroughly.  
  
No one assumed that he could understand them, talking solely to his mom most of the time. And sometimes, he couldn't. The words were all garbled, messed up, a sound that he couldn't bear to listen to, but that he was forced to endure again and again.  
  
He had stopped his rebellious acts during his therapy sessions. She would say "point blue" and he would point blue. She would say "touch nose" and he would touch his nose. Again. And again. And again. For hours and hours. The same exercises. The same mindless exercises. Sometimes, Eddie wondered if he died and was in Hell. It truly looked like it anyway…  
  
The therapist started to reward him when he behaved nicely. She would give him treats, and he would eat them mindlessly, as if he was a fucking dog. She would give him stickers. She would give him five minutes breaks to read his comics during their sessions, and she would take them away from him if he didn't comply.  
  
Eddie felt like a stranger in his own body. Often, he felt like he couldn't even think anymore, allowing him to obey his therapist mindlessly, to his mom. He was more and more clumsy, clutching painfully to his pen when he was writing to Richie, day after day. Richie would never answer, but he still did it. Again and again. He sometimes forgot why he was writing these letters, but he still did it.  
  
He started to take his teddy bear with him more often, until the plush didn't leave his arms anymore. He took it everywhere with him, clutching the old thing, using it as some sort of comfort object. His mom let him do so and, when he was coherent enough to think about that, he knew that she was happily allowing him to look more "childlike". People were pitying him, praising her even more when he looked so innocent, so childish.  
  
His mom didn't take part in every single one of his sessions now. Sometimes, she would retreat in her room, and Eddie didn't know why, until he heard his therapist tell his mom how moved she was when she read her book, when she discovered how much Mrs. Kaspbrak had taken care of her son.  
  
His life, his whole life… It was contained in a book, in multiple books, for anyone to see. He never managed to read one of them, but his mom was talking about it often enough to know that it was filled with lies. She was pretending that he never had any friends. That he always struggled with words in some way, until he became completely mute for an unknown reason. That she had fought tooth and nail to get him the proper diagnosis, that people and incompetent doctors wouldn't listen to her.  
  
Lies. Lies. Lies. But Eddie didn't care anymore. He couldn't bring himself to care. One day, he just… snapped. He was in the kitchen, looking through the window, chewing on his plush's battered ear. He was… tired. Tired of everything. He didn't want to see his therapist. He didn't want to see anyone anymore. He… He just…  
  
He had taken a knife in his hand and was about to push the blade into his skin when his mother arrived. She only had to say "Hands quiet!" for him to put his hands on his legs, letting her take the knife away from him. "Good boy", she told him. She brushed his hair, and he leaned into the touch. He needed it. He needed this contact. Something. Anything that would make him feel alive. Real.  
  
Years went by. Eddie didn't feel like he was growing up, mentally or physically. Every day felt like it was the same, an endless hell that he couldn't escape. Sometimes, he would find the strength to rebel. He would refuse to comply during his sessions. He would give the middle finger to his mom. He would push her away, as much as his frail body would allow him to do so.  
  
But she always knew how to make him pliant. How to force him to give up. She took away his comics. His plush. She forced him to eat things that made him gag, touched him with objects that he couldn't bear to touch, threatened him with a possible electroshock therapy if he didn't behave. And then, one day, he just stopped to fight.  
  
Something broke him. Something definitely killed the last shred of rebellion that was still inside him. His mom was about to be interviewed about her new book, and Eddie wouldn't sit straight, wouldn't stay where she wanted him to stay. He was whining, grunting, fighting against her as much as he could, because he had it in him, because he didn't want to hear her lie about him again, because… because he couldn't stand it anymore.  
  
But she found the magic words. The offer that made him stay still, quiet, peaceful.  
  
"I'll let you call Richard if you behave."  
  
And he did. He behaved, waiting, waiting for this moment where he could finally hear his friend's voice. He barely remembered it, but he didn't care about that. He would hear him and he would remember. He would tell him everything and Richie would help him. Yes, he was sure of that! Hearing Richie would make him strong enough to be able to talk, even if his mother was there! He would speak, and he would tell him everything and… and… and he didn't know what would happen, but something would happen. He was sure of it.

His mom always kept the phone in her room, door closed. She allowed him in, sitting next to him while he was calling the Toziers landline. He remembered their phone number. He never forgot it. He was expecting Richie’s voice, but the voice he heard was much deeper:  
  
“Wentworth Tozier speaking.”  
  
Eddie felt the words coming to a halt in his throat. He didn't expect that. He didn't expect to hear his friend's father. He wanted to talk to Richie! He had to talk to Richie!  
  
"Hello? Is someone there?"  
  
Eddie tried to say something. Anything. Come on, it was easy! He just had to say "Richie"! Went would understand. He would let him speak to him. Come on, Eddie… Say it. Say it. Say it!  
  
“...iiie… iiie...”  
  
That's all he managed to say. He heard Wentworth sighing, saying that he couldn't hear them well, and he hung up. Eddie stayed still for a while, eyes wide, tears rolling down his cheeks. He let his mom take the phone away from him, shaking, panting. He went limp when she hugged him, listening to her and believing every single one of the words that she was whispering to his ear:  
  
"You see, Eddie bear. You can't even talk to your friend. Why do you think he never wrote back to you? No one would take care of you like I do. No one would want to stay with you like I do. No one would want a friend like you. Richard moved on. He doesn't need you anymore. But I'm here, Eddie bear. I'm here, and I'll never leave you alone. I promise."  
  
And Eddie clutched to his mom. He hugged her and cried and wailed, and the last bit of rebellion finally died within him. He had nothing left. Nothing left, but her.  
  
For a year, their apartment was filled with a camera crew. Eddie didn't quite understand what they were doing here, but he didn't protest when they started to follow him everywhere, taking away every last shred of intimacy that he had. He didn't care anymore.  
  
When they finally left, a few months went by until Eddie had to handle other cameras, these mechanical eyes pointed at him, watching his every move. He was on TV with his mom, and she was interviewed about her documentary. Eddie just hugged his plush, eyes down. He was tired. It was so noisy. The lights were blinding. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to his routine. He was anxious.  
  
At one point, his mom's mic made an awful, whistling sound, and Eddie let out a whine, clutching to his ears, starting to get agitated. He closed his eyes, panting, rocking on the sofa he was sitting on, feeling the "tantrum", like his mom called it, building up in spite of him.  
  
His mom took away his plush and a firm and stern "Quiet!" slipped from her lips. She forced his hands down, repeating her command once again. And Eddie forced himself to stay silent, biting his tongue painfully, terrified that she might take away definitely his plush this time. But she didn't. As soon as he calmed down, she gave it back to him, and he hugged it strongly while staying as still and as quiet as he could be. Because that’s what his mommy wanted him to do. Because he was supposed to be a nice boy. He had to be a nice boy. He had to…  
  
He fell asleep while the show was still airing, curled up against his mom. He didn’t hear her words for him. He didn’t see how the presenter quickly wiped a tear at his mom’s speech. No, he didn't hear or see any of that. He was… tired. So, so tired.  
  
He even missed the most important thing this night, after the documentary was aired, after the show was finished. He missed Maggie Tozier’s call to his mother. He never learned that his mom invited her to assist to her next show, shot live, the one his mother always used to watch on TV and that she would be a part of very soon.  
  
No, Eddie never learned that. And would he even care? Did he still have it in him to care about that? Impossible to know… Eddie was far, far away from everything. It was the only way he could survive. Distancing himself from everything else. The boy no one listened to. The boy who couldn't communicate anymore. The boy who didn't matter. Eddie Kaspbrak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that was... oof. The therapy session was particularly hard to write. I never did ABA, but I used videos displaying typical ABA therapy sessions, usually for younger children than Eddie, and I read tons of stuff written by autistic people about what they experienced. I also used some of my experience, having taken part in social skills sessions, where I found myself infantilized quite a bit and where my needs were never quite met. Nothing as bad as what I'm portraying there, but still.
> 
> I wanted to show slowly how Eddie would kinda retreat in himself, knowing that no one cared about what he was thinking, what he wanted to say, to convey. It was less painful, easier to handle if he could just detach himself from everything. So he did, progressively, and his mom got praised for how nice and well-behaved her autistic son was. They don't see his suffering, how he basically surrendered and give up everything. All they see is a "person with autism" that listened to his mom's commands and that doesn't bother Neurotypicals as much as he could. 
> 
> I hope I have been able to treat this delicate subject rightfully. My intention is not to overdramatize or fetichise a very serious and traumatic topic, but to try to show my perspective and how it can be like for an autistic person to have people take away every single one of their ways to communicate for the benefit of Neurotypicals. 
> 
> Next chapter will be from Richie's POV and will come out real soon. I hope you liked this one. Don't hesitate to comment if you can. I'd really like to know what you think of this chapter, even if it's a negative review. It's important to me. Thanks again for your support.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your support and your comments! Here's the 24th chapter of this fanfic! I never thought I'll write this much for this story... The fact that I'm still inspired after all this time is nothing short of a miracle and it's all thanks to you all! Reading you and witnessing your support means the world to me.
> 
> I hope you'll like this chapter!
> 
> Here are the trigger warnings:
> 
> TW for ableism  
> TW for internalized homophobia  
> TW for emetophobia  
> TW for self-harm  
> TW for panic attack

Richie was still stunned when he got home, unable to process properly the shock he went through. During five years, five whole years, he had no idea what Eddie might be up to and what his life was like, if he was even okay. And suddenly, out of nowhere, he just reappeared in his life, in a worse condition than anything Richie might have imagined? Fuck. Fuck.  
  
Richie couldn't stop thinking about him. About his stare, especially. Eddie never had this kind of look, not that Richie could remember. It was like Sonia had squeezed the life out of him, successfully turning him into the compliant doll she always wanted to have as a son.  
  
Richie had never hated someone as much as he hated Sonia Kaspbrak. If she was there, right in front of him, he would have killed her. Bashed her head with a baseball bat. Strangled her neck. Beat her to a pulp. Richie was furious, sad, and disgusted, all at the same time, a whirlwind of emotions that he had troubles handling properly. He was picking at his skin mindlessly, curled up on his parents' couch, waiting for the moment when they would broadcast Mrs Kaspbrak's documentary.  
  
He didn't want to see it. And at the same time, he did. He needed to see what happened to Eddie. How she was treating him. What he could do to help him. There was no way for Richie to leave him in this situation any longer. Eddie needed help, and he would do anything to offer him the life he deserved, far away from his monster of a mother.  
  
Richie heard a sound, someone sitting next to him, but he didn't react right away. He raised his head when he recognized Mike's voice, who was offering him a sweet smile:  
  
“Bev called me too. I went to your workplace, but they told me you were home. I figured that you might use the company."   
  
Richie didn't deserve Mike. Mike and his kindness. Mike and his loyalty. Even when Richie was at his worst and aggressive towards anyone else, Mike was still there for him. Richie had realized how much he valued Mike's friendship when they were the only ones left of the Losers Club in Derry, everyone else gone.  
  
He had always been discreet, having nice gestures for everyone, a kind word when needed, offering his help whenever necessary. He wasn't one to begin conversations, and he'd rather follow anyone else than to be followed, which was probably why Richie never gave him the attention he deserved. Mike was discreet and calm, and Richie was loud and energetic. Most of the time anyway.  
  
Right now, Richie didn't feel like talking or moving much. He was still picking at his skin and watching the TV screen without really seeing what was happening. They were talking to other guests, and Eddie wasn't on the screen anymore. He couldn't care if there wasn't Eddie. He couldn't.  
  
“I talked with your parents and I’ll stay here for the night. We could… We could watch it together. This documentary. If we can even call it that way. I’m guessing it’s going to be filled with lies to paint Mrs Kaspbrak in a good light.”  
  
A part of Richie didn't want to share that moment with someone else. He didn't want anyone to see Eddie like that, whatever might happen during the documentary. He was pretty sure that his best friend never agreed to the whole deal. If they even took the time to ask him about it, anyway…  
  
Richie doubted that. He doubted that the people surrounding Eddie were treating him decently. If they did, Eddie wouldn't look like he did on this talk show. He would be loud, fierce, and proud, everything Eddie had always been during the time they spent together. Richie bit his nails nervously. As time passed, Richie was growing more and more nervous at the idea of seeing this documentary. A few times, Eddie was on the screen, and Richie was screaming silently. How could they not see how despaired his friend was? How much he was suffering? Why were they praising Mrs Kaspbrak for what she had done to her son? Why?  
  
“I love him”.  
  
Richie blurted that out of nowhere, eyes fixated on the screen. Mike looked at him with concern, waiting for him to keep talking if he needed to. But Richie remained silent, his full attention turned towards the screen. He felt Mike's hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly, but he was not in a state to realize what he had just said. To get that the cat was out of the bag, that he finally talked about his feelings to his friend after years and years of silence.  
  
Richie's parents joined them some time later. Richie rested against his mother, letting her play with his hair. He needed them. His father and his mother. He needed them so much right now. The documentary film was about to start, and Richie was not ready. Nothing had prepared him to see what was happening on the screen. A window in Eddie's life.  
  
It was painful to watch, to listen to. Eddie seemed to have stopped talking altogether and didn't even try to communicate with everyone else. Richie wasn't surprised. He could see clearly how everyone was ignoring his cries for help, the way he would try to make them understand that he was too tired, that he needed to be left alone, that he didn't want them to film him while he was trying to have some intimacy.  
  
Richie couldn't help but feel like a pervert of some sort, with how little of Eddie's privacy was hidden from him. They showed his mother washing him, while he was staying still and allowing her to manipulate his body as she pleased. They showed his therapy sessions and Richie was terrified at the idea that Eddie might have thought that he wished for his friend anything like that.  
  
They weren’t helping him to express his feelings or his thoughts. They were just making sure that he was still pliant, receptive to the orders that they were giving to him, again and again. It was only for their own sake, to ensure that every single speck of rebellion that might still exist inside him would die.  
  
During some sessions, Eddie tried to resist. He whined, he cried, he hurt himself… Fuck, it was heartbreaking. Richie wanted to cross the screen and to hug him as tightly as he liked it, to assure him that everything would be okay and that he'll never let anyone hurt him like that anymore. He couldn't help but sob when Eddie gave up and complied to their demand.  
  
Richie was beyond nauseous when he saw Mrs Kaspbrak and Eddie's therapist showering him with physical contact that was definitely inappropriate and that Eddie seemed to dislike, claiming that he was a "good boy", giving him treats like he was a fucking dog. He had to excuse himself and to run to the bathroom, unable to keep what was in his stomach any longer.  
  
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Five years of that. Eddie lived through five years of that. That he was still trying to fight, in spite of everything, only showed how strong he was. Richie was sure he wouldn't be able to be as brave and resilient as Eddie was. But Eddie shouldn't have to handle that. He never should have had to handle that.  
  
Richie was pale as a ghost and slightly shaking when he came back and sat on the couch, asking with a weak smile if he had missed anything, as if they were all just watching a stupid movie. His father told him that they could stop it anytime he wanted, but Richie had to keep watching. He had to know what happened to Eddie in order to help him. He didn't know how he could take him away from his mother's grasp, but he would die trying, if necessary.  
  
When the documentary movie ended, Richie wanted nothing more than to punch his TV screen and yell until his lungs gave out. But he didn't. He stayed still, watching Eddie sleeping during the show while they were all discussing what had been shown on the screen, as if the person who was the main focus of the documentary wasn't there, in front of them, suffering from what he had to handle for too many years already.  
  
They talked a bit more about Mrs Kaspbrak's association and gave a number to call for "every parent with a child suffering from autism". Richie ran to take a pen and wrote it down quickly, before turning towards his mother with a desperate expression on his face:  
  
“Mom...”  
  
“I know what you’re going to ask of me, Richie. I fucking know.”  
  
She sighed, while he was giving her the phone number:  
  
"I'm begging you, mom. You're the only one of us she might accept to talk to. Please. Please."   
  
"I never said that I wasn't going to do it, Richie." Maggie bit her lip, while taking the phone number in her hand. She smiled weakly, patting her son on his head. "Cook me some chocolate cake later, and we'll be even. Agreed?"   
  
Richie hugged her so tightly that he almost broke every single one of her bones. She yelped painfully while he was thanking her again and again and again. It was late, but she still tried to call, hoping that someone might pick up.  
  
And they did. At first, the person was reluctant to let them talk to Mrs Kaspbrak, but Maggie did her best and asked them to say to Sonia that "Mags called" and that she "needed her help". When she hung up, Maggie assured them that Sonia would call them back.  
  
"Richie, I might have to say some stuff about you that you're not going to like. I want to be sure that you're okay with that."   
  
"Do what you have to do. I don't care. You can tell her that I'm a sexual delinquent for all I care. As long as you get in her good side and convince her to let us meet her, I'm fine with anything."   
  
It still hurt, hearing his mom talking about him like she did. Fake crying on the phone and pretending that Richie was unbearable, that she couldn't control him anymore (as if she ever tried to), that she was scared that he might end up in jail or even worse. That she needed Sonia's guidance.  
  
"I watched your show tonight. Eddie seemed so quiet and calm, it's incredible. I'm so worried about my Richie, I don't know what to do. Please, Sonia, I need your guidance. Please."   
  
And it worked. It fucking worked. Sonia invited them to come, his mother and him, offering them to be in the audience of her favorite talk show, in which she was supposed to talk about Eddie and how to deal with autistic kids in general. That she would see what she can do about Richie and his terrible behavior. As if Richie would allow her to try anything with him…  
  
"And now what?" Wentworth asked after Maggie explained her whole conversation. "You're going to see them, being part of the audience during her show… But what's the plan?"   
  
“A scandal.”  
  
Mike was the one who talked, everyone else turning their head towards him. He coughed a bit, like the sudden attention was making him anxious.  
  
"My grandma watches this show sometimes. It's airing live, and it's usually filled with drama and messed up stuff. People screaming at each other, family secrets revealed, this kind of thing. They allow the audience to ask their guests some stuff, and they love it when the audience member can unsettle them. It makes for "Good TV", I guess."   
  
Mike shrugged, expressing clearly what he thought about the whole thing.  
  
“You need to expose Mrs Kaspbrak there. She's not going to be able to stop you, and they're not going to risk losing their audience by forcing you to shut up. Mrs Kaspbrak is a public figure, and we need to ruin her image. To prove to everyone that she abused her son and that he should no longer be with her."   
  
Richie thought about it for a while, shaking his legs nervously. He was this close from seeing Eddie again. But to get to see him and having to leave him in this situation? No, never. It seemed to be the only viable plan that they had. But…  
  
"Eddie's going to be there. I'm sure of it. I don't know how he's going to react…"   
  
Richie had no idea what was going on in his head right now. What he was thinking about his mother. Could he try to defend her in some way? And if he didn't want to leave her, what would they do? Richie picked at his skin again, jumping slightly when his father gave him a stress ball. He thanked him distractedly, squeezing the ball so hard that he was hurting his fist.  
  
"We'll deal with that later." His mother assured him, brushing his hair. "First, we have to make sure that Eddie won't have to stay with his mother any longer. You should pack some clothes and all, Richie. We're leaving tomorrow first thing in the morning, and the trip is going to be quite long."   
  
Richie nodded, hugging his mom and his dad tightly, before going to his room. Mike followed him, offering him to help. Richie could only accept. He was too messed up to be properly organized. Mike folded some clothes, while Richie was trying to write down everything he could think of that might help him to bring Sonia down from her pedestal. She hurt Eddie so much, all of these years… Could he have done something to help him? Maybe if he started to talk to Eddie sooner, he could have… He might have…  
  
"So, Richie, if you need to talk about what you said earlier, I'm here, you know."   
  
Richie raised his head from his paper, giving a puzzled look to Mike:  
  
“What?”  
  
Mike stopped what he was doing, sitting on the bed, inviting Richie to do so as well. He whispered to him with a soft voice, making sure that no one else could hear them even if they were close by:  
  
"You can talk about it. About the fact that you love Eddie."   
  
Richie’s breath got caught in his throat at Mike’s words. He suddenly remembered the mindless confession he made, his whole attention focused on Eddie and what was happening on the screen. Oh god… Oh fucking god… He said it. He really said it.  
  
"Richie, look at me. Richie, please, you need to look at me."   
  
Richie raised his head, terrified, unable to think straight. He wanted to run away and never come back. He wanted to jump from the nearest window and to die from the impact. He wanted to… He had to…  
  
"Breathe in. Breathe out. You're going through a panic attack. I'm here to help you calm down, okay? Follow my instructions. Breathe in. Breathe out."   
  
And Richie did, for a while. He didn't know how long it lasted, but he finally managed to breathe regularly enough to not feel like he was going to die. He mumbled, trying to make a joke out of it, but only managing to make it sound like a plea:  
  
“You’re a miracle, Mike. Miraculous Mike. Calming down the local fag that was about to die...”  
  
Mike raised his eyebrow at Richie's quip, shaking his head:  
  
"Don't use those words. Especially not to talk about you."   
  
"But that's what I am!" Richie had started to talk too loud. He didn't want his parents to hear him…  
  
More discreetly, he whispered sadly:  
  
“I’m a fag. A dirty queer. I… I love Eddie and I shouldn’t love him like that. I… I...”  
  
Mike hugged him, and Richie let out a weak yelp.  
  
"Listen, Richie… I can't pretend that I know exactly what you're going through, but you're my friend, my best friend, and you loving Eddie won't change that fact. You're still the same, Richie. The one with the terrible jokes and the awful imitations..."   
  
"Hey, aren't you supposed to flatter my ego, Mikey Mike?"   
  
Mike laughed softly, and the sound of it finally made Richie cry. Mike kept holding him, cradling him lightly, while whispering to his ear:  
  
"I'm so proud of you, Richie. And so thankful that you told me. I can't imagine how much it must have been hard to keep this as a secret all this time…"   
  
"Since I was twelve. That's when I started to know that Eddie was… special to me. I wanted to talk to him so badly, and I never managed to do so until we were fifteen. I… I wish we had more time together. Even just as friends. It was good enough for me. I wouldn't dare to ask for more."   
  
Richie sniffled, before leaving Mike’s comfortable embrace:  
  
"I still have to write all of this stuff down. Eddie is what matters right now."   
  
“You matter too, Richie. Don’t forget that.”  
  
Richie shrugged at Mike's words, dismissing him:  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."   
  
"Richie, I'm serious. For five whole years, I saw you wither away, unable to help you in any way. You didn't want our help. You probably thought you were good at hiding how you were feeling, but you weren't. And now, we might have Eddie back in our life, and I need to be sure that you're not going to forget yourself for his sake."   
  
Richie didn't know what to say. Mike wasn't wrong. Every single one of his thoughts was directed at Eddie, and he could only think about what would happen to _him_ once he'll be back with them. Eddie was his priority. So much that he felt like he was absolutely ready to die for him.  
  
"Okay, you might have a point, I guess. And? Eddie's going to need me. I need to be here for him."   
  
"You really think he's going to be happy if you sacrifice everything for him? If you exhaust yourself for him? I'm well aware that the Eddie that might come back to us will have a lot of issues and traumatic experiences to deal with, that he's going to need our help in many ways, and I'm ready to be there for him. Just like you are. But you have to take a step back. To think about yourself."   
  
Richie grimaced. He didn't want to think about himself. He didn’t like the person that he was, had troubles to accept some of the things he did. Thinking more about himself would mean thinking about that stuff and he wasn’t ready to do so. But Mike was right. If Richie broke down because he pushed himself too hard, he wouldn't be able to help Eddie in any way. Eddie might even get angry at him, as he had when Richie tried too hard to protect him from the rest of the world.  
  
"Okay, okay. I'll try to be a bit selfish here and there. Satisfied?"   
  
"Not really, but that'll do. Now, let's finish that and catch some sleep. There's a long drive waiting for you tomorrow."   
  
They finished preparing Richie's stuff and went to bed. But Richie couldn't find sleep. He was turning and turning and turning in his bed, scoffing nervously. He finally called out Mike, a bit shameful:  
  
“Mike? You’re sleeping?”  
  
"I can't, with the ruckus you're making."   
  
Richie laughed weakly.  
  
"Can you… Can you come on the bed with me?"   
  
They barely had the place to do so, but Mike complied anyway, lying down next to Richie.  
  
"What if… What if we can't help him? I've… I've never seen Eddie like that before. It's… It's horrible."   
  
Mike stayed silent for a while, before asking Richie softly:  
  
"What do you want for Eddie?"   
  
Richie didn’t hesitate:  
  
"I want him to be happy."   
  
"Even if it means that he might never talk again? That he might not be able to live on his own? That he might need your help with things you never thought about before?"   
  
"Yes, Yes to all of that and even more. Mike, I _love_ him. Nothing will ever change that. I want him to be happy, in any way possible. I'll do anything to make sure that he's happy."   
  
"Then he's going to be happy. Maybe it's going to take a while. Maybe he won't express it like other people would. Maybe he’ll never be like he used to be. If we don't pressure him to be anyone else than himself, if we give him the time to recover, he'll be okay. We'll help him remember that he matters. That he's fine just the way he is."   
  
Mike patted Richie's head, and Richie sighed, smiling weakly. He knew that it was going to be difficult. That they'll need to be patient and understanding. That it was going to be long and complicated. But first, they needed to get him out of there. As soon as possible.  
  
"I'll stay here if you need it. Try to sleep a bit. Your mom's going to need you to drive as well, and you don't want to fall asleep behind the wheel, right?"   
  
"I mean… If Mrs. K. crossed the road right in front of us, I might get suddenly very, very sleepy, and be unable to avoid her… Oh, the tragedy!"   
  
"Richie!" Mike said, pretending to be offended. "Those are not holy thoughts, how dare you?"   
  
"The heaven's gates are already closed to me, with me being gay and all. 'Might as well earn my spot in Hell for a good reason..."   
  
“Shut up, idiot.”  
  
Mike flicked him on the forehead, and Richie laughed.  
  
"Thanks, Mike. You know… For everything. Sometimes, I wonder what I did to deserve a friend like you..."   
  
"I'm asking myself the same thing since I met you all. I can't imagine life without you."   
  
Richie sighed, biting his lip:

"I… I miss them, you know. Not just Eddie, but… but everyone. It's not the same without them."   
  
"Yeah, I know. But it's part of growing up, I guess. We're the only ones stuck here."   
  
They stayed quiet for a while until Mike said thoughtfully:  
  
"You know… I think I'm going to talk with my grandparents. There's a job offer at the library. I… I'd like to try to work there. To try something else than just working at the farm. I realized that I spent my whole life trying to fit into the mold they made for me, and I just… I want to feel like I'm myself for once. You know?"   
  
Richie knew. He kinda suspected that watching Eddie on the screen being ignored and manipulated like that made Mike realize that he needed to put his foot down, at least once in his life.  
  
"You do you, nerd. I bet you're going to attract every woman from Derry at the library. And you'll have a bunch of nerds fanning over you and your sexy body..."   
  
"Richie, seriously..." Mike pretended to be annoyed, but he fondly said these words, and Richie could see him smile. "Get some sleep instead of spewing this bullshit."   
  
"Yes, sir!"   
  
Richie managed to sleep a bit. He didn't feel well-rested when he woke up, but he was ready and determined. His mom was as well. They had quite a few hours of driving waiting for them. Richie hugged his father and Mike tightly, as if he might never see them again. Maybe he was exaggerating, but Richie was stressed out of his mind. Scared of what was going to happen.  
  
And his mom was the same, urging him to hop in the car with her, turning on the engine. And they drove, they drove, they drove. At first, they stayed silent, deep in their own thoughts. And then Richie cracked a joke, managing to make his mom laugh. They helped each other without truly admitting it, chasing the bad thoughts, making the other feel that they weren't alone in this. That they could accomplish anything, if they really wanted to.  
  
When they arrived at the hotel, the one Sonia told them she was staying in with Eddie to take part in the talk show, Richie was more determined than ever. He would save Eddie. And he would give him the life he deserved. A happy, simple life, where Eddie will get to be whoever he wanted to be. And fuck everyone who thought that wasn’t enough…  
  
Eddie will get to be free. To finally enjoy his life fully, for the first time in twenty years...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming close to the end of this fanfiction. I don't know if I'll write one chapter more or two, I'll see when I'll start to write it, I guess. 
> 
> I'll open the next volume as soon as this one will be finished, so be prepared for two whole chapters to read if the next one is the last. I'll post the link to the next story in the author's notes, so that you'll be able to subscribe to it if you want to and to keep reading Eddie and Richie's story.
> 
> Anyway, I love Mike's character and I'm bummed out by how much they wasted his character in the movie. I'm glad I'm finally able to write him, he's going to be featured quite much in the next volume in my fanfic, being the only other Loser in town. I started to love him when I watched the miniseries, I can't believe they made him so bland in the movie adaptation, bleh. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter! Don't hesitate to comment or leave a kudo if you can and want! Next chapter will be released real soon. Bye bye!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, that's it, the end of the first volume of my fanfiction. Thank you all for your support, I never imagined that you would like my story like you did. 
> 
> I initially planned to post this ending AND the first chapter of the second volume back to back, but I'm truly exhausted and I have an awful headache. I have to catch some sleep before writing again.
> 
> Anyway, have a good reading and here are the trigger warnings:
> 
> TW for R-word  
> TW for ableism  
> TW for mention of alcoholism  
> TW for infantilization
> 
> If I have forgotten anything, let me know!

Richie was shivering with anticipation, while his mother was talking to the receptionist to get the key to their room. Mrs Kaspbrak had paid everything, an act that Richie couldn't possibly see as generous coming from her. She was probably trying to showcase her money, how much she had won by making a profit out of Eddie's suffering…  
  
But Richie was not going to ruin everything by confronting Sonia immediately. No, it was their only shot at getting Eddie back. God, he wanted to see him! He wanted to see him so badly… Let him know that he wasn't alone. That he hadn't been forgotten. That, whatever might happen, Richie and his family would be there for him.  
  
And, at the same time, he was scared. Some tiny part of his mind was whispering to Richie that, maybe, Eddie didn't remember him in the slightest… Or that he wouldn't want to see him. Why would he? After all, Richie hadn't been able to help him when he needed him. Even worse, Sonia Kaspbrak had used _him_ to convince Eddie to come back to her. Obviously, he had to resent Richie in some way, right?  
  
Richie started to fidget nervously with his glasses, barely hearing his mother asking him to follow her to their room. How would he react if Eddie just straight-up rejected him? If he let him know, in his own way, that he never wanted to see him, that he didn't need to be saved? Richie had no idea. And he was getting more and more anxious.  
  
A sudden pat on his head made him jump. His mom gave him a smile, ruffling his hair, before entering with him in the elevator.  
  
"It's going to be okay, Richie," Maggie said while pressing the button, leading them to their floor level. "We're both in this together. We can do it."   
  
"How can you be so sure? I'm… I'm…"   
  
Richie bit his lips, admitting in a voice barely audible:  
  
“I’m scared.”  
  
He didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. He was scared. Scared out of his mind. Scared that they might fail. Scared that they might make it worse for Eddie. Scared that he might not even want to see them. Scared. Scared. Scared.  
  
“I’m scared too.”  
  
Richie raised an eyebrow at his mom's admission. She rolled her eyes, offering him a cheeky smile:  
  
"Come on, Richie, you're an adult now. You really think that we have it all figured out?" Maggie shrugged, walking to their room once the elevator arrived at their floor. "I'm improvising. I'm doing my best. Hoping for the best. I've done that all my life and especially since I've met your father, and you were born."   
  
“Because we’re the worst, right?”  
  
Richie hadn't intended for his tone to be so dry. It was just a joke… He bit his lips, muttering a "sorry" that his mom accepted, caressing his cheek before opening their door.  
  
"Because I love you both. Because you're my family and I want the best for you two. And if Eddie becomes a part of our family, I want the best for him as well."   
  
Richie nodded furiously. He couldn't agree anymore. He would give anything to ensure a bright future for Eddie. For him to be happy and free from his mother's clutches. Speaking of which…  
  
"Do you know when we'll see her? And… And Eddie, I guess."   
  
Maggie shrugged while ordering the stuff they packed this morning before leaving.  
  
"I don't really know. The receptionist told me that Sonia asked to be warned at our arrival. I'm guessing we'll see her very soon. I don't know if she'll have a lot of time for us. She probably has to prepare herself for the show."   
  
"She can prepare herself for hours, that won't make her less ugly on TV..."   
  
Maggie furrowed her eyebrows, a disapproving expression on her face:  
  
“Richie...”  
  
"What?" Richie raised his arms in the air, as if he sincerely couldn't understand his mom's reaction. "It's not about how she looks! She’s an evil bitch, ugly from the inside, and it shows on the outside. She has the worst smile you can imagine. I'd see it on a child molester's face, I wouldn't be surprised..."   
  
"Richie, please!" Maggie flicked him on the forehead, before taking his hand in hers and inviting him to sit on one of their beds. "You need to calm down. You're getting worked up, and you're not yourself. I didn't raise you to say such awful things."   
  
“But… But Mom! She’s…!”  
  
Maggie sighed. She let go of her son's hand, caressing his cheek, brushing his hair:  
  
"I know who she is. Trust me, I know. But you can't let her make of you someone that you're not. You're better than that, Richie. Don't waste your energy on hating her and insulting her like you're doing. We have more important things to focus on. Okay?"   
  
Richie took a deep breath. Eddie. Eddie was more important than anything else. If he wanted to punch his pillow and imagine that it was Sonia's face, he'd do it later, when Eddie's going to be safe.  
  
“Okay, mom.”  
  
They didn't have to wait too long. A knock on their door and Sonia was there, greeting them with her horrible smile. Richie could clearly see his mom struggling not to laugh, probably thinking about what he said earlier, too nervous to properly control her emotions. He tried his best to keep a straight face, but he couldn't prevent himself from being clearly disappointed. Eddie was not with her.  
  
“Where’s Eddie?”  
  
Sonia, who had started to talk with Maggie, scrunched her nose up at Richie's interruption, not even giving him a look:  
  
"I see why you called me, Mags. Your boy doesn't have a shred of courtesy in his bones. But I promise that I'll do my best to help him once the show is over. Oh, I can't wait! I'm finally meeting Sylvia Brent, can you believe? My favorite presenter!"   
  
"I'm very happy for you, Sonia. You deserve it." Richie really wanted to say something, but he stopped himself before ruining everything, letting his mom handle Mrs Kaspbrak. "We were hoping to see Eddie before the show. He must be nervous, lots of people are going to watch the show. I think the entirety of Derry will, anyway."   
  
Richie could just admire his mom’s ability to praise Sonia Kaspbrak and to get on her good side. It was pretty obvious that the woman really, really wanted to be recognized and loved, notably by the people who used to look down on her. If she hadn't done what she did, Richie could have spared some tears for her… But he wouldn't. Never.  
  
"Oh, Eddie has a tight schedule, he can't see you! He has a therapy session right now. Then I have to prepare him for the show. He can't do anything without me, you know? Poor thing..."   
  
Richie muttered a “Fuck you”, that he hid as much as he could in a coughing fit. Mrs Kaspbrak looked at him with eyes screaming how much she was despising him, before turning back to Maggie:  
  
"The show will begin at 20, but you'd better be in the studio way before that. I called a cab to lead you there. I hope you have something elegant to wear? I know that you can’t really afford the kind of things that I’m wearing, but...”  
  
"It's fine, Sonia." Maggie had a tight smile, trying her best to remain calm and kind. "We have everything we need."   
  
Sonia seemed unconvinced, but she let it go. She gave a look to her watch, before gasping exaggeratedly:  
  
"I have to go! I'm so busy, you can't imagine! Interviews, talk shows, book signings… I don't have a minute for myself, everyone needs to see me!"   
  
Richie could clearly see her sweating, and as much as he hated it, he could only trust her. She seemed to have quite a busy schedule, but he supposed that she was enjoying every minute of it. People looking at her. People admiring her. People waiting to hear what she had to say. Richie wanted to throw up.  
  
"I'm in the room next to you! I'm busy, but if you need something, Mags, you can still knock! Oh and I paid for the minibar in your room, so feel free to help yourself. I know how much you love it!"   
  
Richie saw his mother turning pale at Sonia Kaspbrak’s words. He slammed violently the door behind her when she left, kicking it a few times:  
  
“What the fuck? That fucking bitch! She… I… Fuck!”  
  
Richie hated her. He hated her so much. And he hated the fact that she could hurt his mom so easily. Doing his best to calm himself down, he joined her, hugging her tightly:  
  
"You're okay? Can I do something for you? Do you need me to call Dad? I..."   
  
Maggie put her index finger on her son’s lips, shushing him:  
  
"I'm fine, Richie. I'm not going to throw myself at the minibar because she's still treating me like an alcoholic. I'm fine."   
  
She insisted, repeating those words while wiping her eyes furiously.  
  
"We have to focus on what's most important right now. What we're going to say at this show. Do you have the list you've written on you?"   
  
Richie nodded, giving her the paper. He was worried. He really was. His mom was still recovering and she had a few relapses here and there, for reasons that he never fully understood. In such a stressful context, could she…?  
  
A flick on the nose and Richie let out an "Ouch!" quite loud.  
  
“Mom!”  
  
"Stop worrying about me, Richie. You can't keep worrying about everyone all the time. I'm doing fine, and I'll tell you if I feel that I'm not. I swear. But you have to stop looking at me like I'm going to suddenly break. Okay?"   
  
It was hard not to worry. Richie was indeed spending most of his time getting anxious about everyone that he cared for. And he couldn't help but feel responsible for his mom's drinking habits. He knew that he wasn't always easy to raise. And… And he had such cruel words for her when she only tried to help him… But he had to focus. He had to. Eddie needed him. He needed them both.  
  
“Okay, let’s review this list...”  
  


*

Richie and his mother were seated in the front row, with a clear view of what was happening on stage. In another setting, he would have been excited to be on TV, see a crew, and how the "magic" was operating. It was truly fascinating. But he didn't have any attention to spare to that. He was waiting for the show to start. For Eddie and Sonia Kaspbrak to appear.

He was munching his nails nervously, repeating again and again in his head what he was supposed to say. He and his mom agreed that he should be the one to talk. Eddie would hear him. Eddie would see him. Maybe he would react. Maybe he would help them. He had to believe that there was still something inside his friend that wanted to fight. That wanted to be free. He deserved it. He deserved it so much…

And then, the show began. Eddie and Sonia were backstage, waiting to be called to appear. Richie clapped when everyone else did, unable to focus on what the TV presenter was saying. His mind was filled with Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. He had to save him. He had to help him. He had to…

And there he was. Clutching his plush. Eyes cast on the ground. They were still clapping, and Richie could clearly see him struggle with the noise. Why was he the only one to see it? Why was no one intervening to help him? He wanted to run on stage and to lead him far, far away from this bullshit. But he had to stay put. Wait for the right moment. His leg was shaking badly, showing how anxious he was. Fuck, fuck, fuck…

Not a single question was directed at Eddie. The TV presenter only talked to Sonia, saying how moved she had been while watching her documentary movie, praising her for her actions in the association that she was a part of. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. Richie was so nervous and angry that he missed his first opportunity to ask a question, raising his hand too late. He cursed under his breath while his mother was gently putting her hand on his shoulder. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

"My son has autism. He’s five years old and he doesn’t listen to me at all. Sometimes, I think that he doesn't love me. I'm trying really hard to grieve the son I could have, like my doctor told me to, like you wrote in your book, but I can't. How… How can you stay so strong? How did you manage to raise your son like you did? He seems so calm and obedient." 

Eddie wasn't calm. He was far from being relaxed, playing with his plush's damaged ear, and avoiding raising his head as much as possible. Sonia had broken him methodically, to keep him under control and use him to make herself look good. It was… It was unfathomable. And people were praising her for what she did! None of them were taking the time to ask themselves if Eddie was happy! What he was thinking about all of that…

Richie wanted to cry. To scream. Staying put was getting harder and harder, and he was doing his best to not listen to _her_ , to not have to hear her lies again and again and again. If only she could shut the fuck up! If only… If only…

His mother nudged him, and Richie instantly raised his hand. Finally! They were giving him the mic. Richie stood up, walking towards the area where he was supposed to go to talk. He could see Sonia looking at him with a puzzled expression, hesitating to call security, but not wanting to look badly on camera. Especially when he still hadn't said a single thing…

Richie took a deep breath. 3… 2… 1…

"Why are you lying?" 

There was a stunned silence in the audience. Richie didn't let Sonia the time to react, proceeding to say with evident anger laced in his voice:

"Eddie has friends! He had me, he had Stanley, Bill, Beverly, Mike, and you took him away from us! You took him away because you knew that you couldn't control him if we were there to protect him from you!" 

He pointed her with his index finger, while the audience was gasping audibly. Sonia reacted, raising from her seat:

"This is ridiculous! This boy is lying! I will not answer his question!" 

"Come on, Mrs. K… Don't pretend that you don't know me. I’m Richie Tozier, Eddie’s best friend. The one who brought him his homework when you forced him to stay at home all week for a fucking shiner! The one who taught him how to swim because you didn't even allow him to go to a fucking swimming pool!" 

Richie had seen Eddie raised his head at his words, at his voice. Yes, yes, Eddie! He had to react. He had to recognize him. He had to!

"You pretend that you always struggled to get Eddie the proper diagnosis, but it's because you didn't listen to the fucking doctors who told you that he was autistic! You didn't want him to be a "retard", as you said! You wanted him to be ill, the fragile, perfect son that you could keep at home and that everyone would praise you for raising him!" 

"Lies! Nothing but lies!" 

Sonia's face was getting red and sweaty. She stood up but didn't dare to go to Richie, knowing that they were all looking at her, that they were all waiting for her reaction.

"Really? I have proof, you know. I have proof that you fucking tried to poison your son because you wanted so badly for him to be sick! That you blackmailed a pharmacist so that he would prescribe to Eddie meds that could have killed him! And you're there, pretending to be the hero? Mother Courage, that's how they're calling you? But you're just a monster! Look at your son!" 

Richie was shaking, crying, screaming. He could barely stand up, but he was still talking, talking, revealing the truth to everyone. And no one was stopping him. Because it was “Good TV”. Because they loved the scandal that he was creating. Slandering Mrs Kaspbrak on National TV, the woman everyone was praising everywhere…

“Eddie is the toughest son of a bitch that I’ve ever known. He protected me from bullies. He never hesitated to fight for his friends. He was… He is… I...”

Eddie was looking at him, mouth agape, clutching his plush against his torso harder than ever. He seemed to be unable to react, 1paralyzed, shaking violently. He let out a scream when his mom pulled him by his arm, but she was having none of it:

"We're leaving! I'm calling my lawyers, this show is a joke! Come on, Eddie Bear, don't be ridiculous..." 

She was gripping his arm, tightly, too tightly. Richie dropped his mic, running to help him, but he didn't need to do so. Before he arrived, Eddie pushed her back, using his whole strength, so much that she fell backward, and he screamed once again, something that was sounding like a defiant "NO!" .

That's when everything became chaotic. Sonia tried to scream as well, but she found herself unable to talk. She grabbed her own chest, tightly, a weird noise coming out of her throat. She was sweating, sweating, sweating… She was dying. She was dying of a heart attack, in front of them.

And Eddie screamed. Louder than he ever did. He screamed and ran to her, falling next to her, grabbing her hand, touching her face, screaming, crying, screaming, crying. Richie tried to approach him, but Eddie was gesticulating too wildly, hitting him violently in the chin. Richie staggered backward, falling on his butt, a ringing sound in his ears. He felt more than he saw his mom getting close to him, trying to help him up:

"Richie? Can you hear me? Richie!" 

Richie was stunned, unable to move, unable to say a single thing. Did he… Did he just kill… Sonia Kaspbrak? The thought made him laugh, a weird and confused laugh, before he started to cry in his mother's arms. He killed her. He killed her. He killed her.

*

It was a mess. This whole situation was a mess. Richie was too confused to really get what was happening. Sonia Kaspbrak died in the hospital, and Eddie was institutionalized until they were able to find a suitable family to take care of him. He knew that his mom had tried to convince them to let her take Eddie back with them, but it wasn't going to happen so soon. Eddie's case was delicate. Sonia Kaspbrak had no known family, but her financial assets were huge, and they needed to make sure that he wouldn't be taken care of by someone who only wanted his money.

It was established that Sonia's health was already deteriorating, the woman pushing herself too much and exhausting herself more and more every day. Richie's intervention just accelerated what was unavoidable. It wasn't his fault, his mom kept telling him. It wasn't his fault.

They couldn't see Eddie. They told them that he was too agitated, that they had to sedate him, and that he wasn't in any state to see anyone. That the best they could do was to go home and wait for a decision to be taken. To be reachable, in case they needed information or had to ask them some stuff. Richie only wanted to go home. But he wanted to be with Eddie as well.

And yet, he didn't struggle when his mom let him know that they had to leave. That Eddie was staying, for now. He was… He was so tired. And full of guilt. He hated Sonia Kaspbrak. He really hated her. But he couldn't forget her face. The way she was clutching her chest. The heavy sweating glistening on her skin.

Night after night, he dreamed of this event, unable to escape this nightmare. Richie didn't go back to work, waiting to have some news, waiting for the moment they would be allowed to bring Eddie back. How was he doing? Was he holding up? Richie wanted to be there for him. So much. So fucking much.

It took them weeks before the authorities decided that the Toziers were the most suitable family to take care of Eddie. They all drove back there to bring him back, not wanting to stress him furthermore by forcing him to get on a plane. Home… They were bringing Eddie home. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, that's the end. Writing this final chapter took every ounce of energy from me, I'm so tired. It was intense. I hope you'll like it.
> 
> So, now, this work is a part 1 of a series, the series "Listen to me". Part 2 will be called "Home" and I hope to be able to write it between today and tomorrow after having some sleep (It's 1 A.M where I'm living).
> 
> You can subscribe to the series to make sure you won't miss the next volume. Thank you so, so much for your support. Have a nice day! Don't hesitate to let comments and/or kudos, I can't wait to see your reaction. See you soon!


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